


Oceans Away

by Rickylee



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst (minor), Blood, Death, Disease, Finally, Flashbacks, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Nightmares, Omens, Pirate AU, Pneumonia, Possession, Praise Kink, Racial slurs, Sexual Advances, Swearing, Typhoon, Unsafe Sex, Violence, an ass whoopen, kept forgetting to tag that, like a lot, mentions of rape (very small), more d being out, our world-sorta, people pets, pirate empress, semi-sex, swords and guns and shit, the anal sex, the d is out anyway, ymir and krista are lesbos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 139,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickylee/pseuds/Rickylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED I have learned that the author is a Nazi sympathizer and glorifies racism and I WILL NOT continue to love a series created by a scum bucket. sorry not sorry. This story is NOT up for grabs as I'm going to use it for another fandom or an originally story instead. I love all you readers and I thank you for love and support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unbelievable

**Author's Note:**

> lmao. I woke up today from a pirate au dream and it wouldn't leave me alone. so I typed it up super fast.
> 
> I majorly apologize if any of this offends any one and please, if you have better translations for this I would be forever greatfull. I'm using Google so yeah....
> 
> I race bent a few people, like Marco, Bertholdt, a few others not mentioned yet. Bertholdt has Indian ancestry, fight me. Marco is part Chinese, haven't deiced his other part[s] yet though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, bc this is set in the 1800's there will be racial slurs and some other sensitive content. I've got some messages saying this work was racist, if you had continued to read you would see character progression. sucks for you if you don't like it or didn't read the tags. :/

Un-fucking-believable.

There’s pirates swarming the deck. Not just any pirates, oh no, fucking _Orient_ pirates. There’s fucking slant-eyes everywhere and there’s no possible way to escape without being skewed by their swords.

I was caught a while ago. I had thought fresh air could do me some good. It was nice, the fresh salty breeze flowing through my sandy blond (more brown than blond) hair. The waves crashing noisily about the hull of the ship. Not a cloud in the sky - that kind of bullshit - and my usual sour mood was left behind me as soon as I stepped out on deck.

That mood drastically changed when a decent sized ship came barreling our way. The sailors were bellowing orders left and right, canons I had previously not noticed being manned and loaded. It wasn’t till a very loud, heart stopping boom from across the water, did I get a little scared.

Our ship wasn’t even able to get a single shot before dozens of men – and women too - came piling on the ship like ants to candy. The fighting was loud and I could feel myself start to shake. I hadn’t any weapons, what if someone came at me? Well one did, and she didn’t even look orient. Maybe Indian, maybe Hispanic. I don’t know I’m not good with races. Anyway, she pushed me at sword point toward the main deck where the majority of the passengers and crew stood trembling and waiting.

She shoved me into a pale man, who was obviously a westerner with his pale gold hair and yellow eyes, he tied my hands in front of me and shoved me over toward the other people who were tied. Many were crying, while others seemed to have wet themselves. Pathetic really. I may be scared shitless right now, but at least I’ve retained my dignity.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” an incredibly loud voice screams, a voice that immediately causes me to scowl. Of all he people to cause trouble, of course _Jaeger_ is the one to do it. Eren is taken screaming and thrashing towards the rest of us.

“GET AHOLD OF HIM!” a pirate yells – screams really.

“I’M TRYING SIR! IT’S LIKE HOLDIN’ ON TO AN EEL!” the man trying to pin Eren down growls. Finally the man seems fed up with all the bruises he’s acquiring and takes the butt end of his pistol and slams into Eren’s temple.

“Eren!” I yell jogging over to him. Shit. He’s out cold, but breathing. There’s blood but not too much. The kid may be a pain in the ass but he still doesn’t deserve this. Hell I don’t deserve this. All I wanted was out of my plague torn country, not get harassed by some common sea thugs.

The large blond grabs my shoulder and squeezes, my knees buckle, “AH! Calm down, I ain’t going anywhere.” The squeezing lightens.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Bertholdt crawl out from below decks. He was on his way back home to India. Apparently his mother had died and he traveled to Germany to tell his birth father. At least, that’s what he said when I asked what he was doing so far from his native lands.

 _“My father is a German man who met my mother in India. They eloped, but when he found out she was pregnant, he panicked and fled back to Germany. Mother followed intent on killing him, she says, but he went back to India with her and lived happily together for a while. Then father broke it off and left us.”_ Bertholdt had smiled sadly and said no more. Okay, whatever, we’ve all got baggage.

I can see Bertholdt frown, I can’t blame him, we’re like three days from India. He puts his hands up as several pirates lift guns and swords at him. The tall man sighs as he joins us captives and sighs harder when the large blond ties his hands.

“Three days away. Three.” He mutters. His accent is a little hard to understand sometimes, but I caught it.

There’s a sudden silence that falls over everyone. The pirates seem to straighten and the people start to tremble harder. Guess the captain is aboard. There’s rapid Chinese, fuck it could be Korean for all I know, fired from in front. The blond man replies in stunted phrases, like he’s only just learned the language. The more fluid language is getting closer.

I can hear his boot thump against the wooden deck. People part like the Red Sea for him. I can see him.

And…

He’s not that impressive.

He looks Asian. He also looks Italian. And maybe Spanish. I don’t fucking know. It’s the freckles. Or is it the broad tallness that Asians don’t seem to possess? (At least from what I’ve seen anyway). He’s that tan shade all sailors seem to acquire, but there’s a distinct shade of _Asian_ in his skin tone. Shit is that racist? He's wearing a combinations of Asian silks and European cotton. It looks ridiculous, but somehow, it's pulled off rather elegantly.

He spots Eren, still out cold, and tromps over to him. The Captain kicks him a little, like nudging a dog out of the way kind of kick. It angers me and I don’t even think when I roughly shrug off the large hand and push the man away from Eren.

He blinks in surprise, fuck you’re not allowed to look innocent, and says something I don’t understand. The blond grunts back something and the captain smiles and shrugs.

“What’s your name?” he asks in fluent English.

I give him my best glare. He frowns and eyes the man at my feet. Eren is starting to wake.

“Mikasa!” the captain yells. He says something in rapid whatever and a beautiful woman drops from the sky. Hair like midnight, cut short at her sharp chin. Piercing grey eyes that make my knees weak. I’ve always had a thing for strong woman. Mikasa? That name sounds… familiar. _She_ looks familiar.

She says something, he says something, she glance down at Eren, starts to say something back and does a double take on Eren. Immediately she’s down on the ground cradling Eren’s head.

“Eren!” there’s tears in her eyes. “Eren? Idiot what are you doing in these waters? Where’s Armin?”

Eren seems to have woken up enough to be slightly coherent. The striking green eyes of the brunet open, “Mikasa?”

Before either can say anything else the captain breaks in. “Who is he to you?”

“My family.” She sniffs, face obscured by the faded red scarf around her neck. She stands with Eren’s arm draped over her shoulder. “He’s the boy I told you about Captain.”

He nods and gestures vaguely to his ship. “Bring him aboard.”

I’m about to protest but the blond grabs me again.

“What about Armin, Eren!? You can’t leave him!” I yell trying in vain to wiggle out of the pirate’s grip.

The orient woman stops and turns toward me, her stare almost murderous. “Where.” No question, just a demand.

“I-in the sick bay. His leg broke in the storm a few days ago. F-fell.” I stutter. Shit that was pathetic.

She looks at her captain who nods. “Him too.” Mikasa smiles and bows her head in thanks.

And just like that both disappear over the railing and onto the other ship. Eren doesn’t seem to care what’s going on anymore.

The captain zeros back on me again and I involuntarily take a step back. Fuck, what the hell do you want? He says something I can’t understand again to the blond and suddenly two large hands clasp firmly onto my arms.

“H-hey!” I squirm and wiggle and kick and try everything to get out of his grip, but fuck, this guy is _fucking strong_. The captain steps closer and closer, uncaring of my squirming and just watches. It’s fucking creeping me out. Without warning he reaches out and grabs my jaw, tilting my head forcefully this way and that. I try to bite him multiple times, he’s infuriatingly unflappable.

I see Armin, his bright yellow mop of a head mostly, being carefully carried overboard. He seems almost bored. Bertholdt harshly elbows a pirate trying to cop a feel. The pirate looks as if he’ll attack him, but one look from that one female pirate shoots him down.

Captain No-Personal-Space finally steps back with a satisfied nod. A hand going to his chin as if contemplating something. He steps further away and the blond lets me go, I gasp and (as dignified as I can) walk my way to stand next to Bertholdt. The captain shares a look with the big blond and both chuckle. This would all be so much easier if my hands weren't tied.

The freckled man turns to address the whole ship. “My name is Marco, Captain of the Piāolíng Pirates. No harm will come to you if you just cooperate.” There’s several snorts and huffs of udder disbelief. “Captain,” he turns to the captain of this ship, “May I have your… eh? What’s it called in this language?”

“Register Cap’?” the blond rumbles.

“I believe so, the paper with everyone’s names and where they are going.” He smiles all innocent like and I can’t fucking believe how many girls titter at him.

Captain Hannes - a good man in my opinion with light blond hair bleached by years of sun and kind whiskey colored eyes, ‘bout mid-forties if the crow’s feet around his eyes say anything - rubs his forehead and sighs in defeat. “In my cabin. Should be somewhere around the desk. Careful though, Jezebel is mighty protective of her kittens and she’s nesting under the desk; don’t want her to get hurt.”

“How kind of you to warn us.” ‘Marco’ smiles again and I can feel my eyes roll so hard the muscles pull. He motions for someone to go and get it. While whoever is in charge of the errand goes and gets it, Marco stares at me.

What the fuck? Go away. Quit staring at me for Christ sakes!

Finally a young woman taps the red journal onto his chest and Captain Marco breaks eye contact to flip through it. Occasionally leaning over and asking Hannes what something says. Either he isn’t familiar with English, or Hannes has some shitty hand writing.

“Okay!” Marco shouts brightly after what seems like hours. “I’m going to call your name and you will raise your hand, and I will come over and ask you some questions. Don’t. Move.” He says the last two words harshly.

“Armin Arlet.” The same woman who gave him the journal whispers in his ear, “Wait, no, he’s already aboard. Never mind.” He continues down the list. A few times he has to get his goons to beat the information out of people, or stop to have someone decipher a name or word. After about five guys, people seem to get the message and give in to his measly demands.

I start to notice a pattern. Certain people are put into certain groups. If you’re pretty, if you’re rich, if you’re poor, etc. and by then I’m starting to get scared, ‘cause I’m poor as fuck and I don’t have anyone to pay ransom and highly doubt anyone will be willing to pay for it anyway. Shit.

“Bertholdt Hoover.” This gives me a start, said man raises his arms, the sleeve of his weird blue tunic thing slides down as he does.

“Oh? An Indian boy?” Marco comments, I can feel my heart beat faster. Shit. Shit. Hannes ordered the names alphabetically... I think, I’m probably next.

“Half.” Bertholdt says looking down at the pirate like one would look at a rat.

“Excuse me?” Marco looks up from the papers, ignoring the look he’s getting. “Ah yes. It says you’re returning home from Germany. You would be dropped off at the next port am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why where you in Germany?”

“My father lives there.”

“And a mother?”

“Dead, last year.”

“And that’s the reason you traveled to your father’s homeland?” Marco seems genuinely curious.

“Obviously.” Bertholdt’s dead pan tone finds me suppressing giggles.

“But why not stay? Going all the way across the world only to turn back around. It seems you’re on this twice. And only stayed in Europe for as long as this ship stayed there.” Marco’s voice has gotten sweeter, like he’s trying not to get frustrated by the other man’s simple phrases.

“That. Is none of your business.”

“Turned you out did he? White men tend to do that for their mixed accidents.” Marco shakes his head in mock sadness. I watch as every muscle in Bertholdt’s body lock.

Bertholdt shouts something quickly and harshly in what I believe to be Hindu.

I have no fucking clue what the hell he said but by the way several other Indians and the way Marco freezes, it can’t be good.

“What did you call me? My Hindu is a bit rusty.” He’s taking out his sword and holy shit I can feel sweat pour down my back. Bertholdt doesn’t even flinch at the sound of metal scrapping out of its’ scabbard.

Bertholdt replies in a cold voice, there’s dangerous flash in the cow brown eyes of the invading captain.

I don’t even know what happened till Bertholdt is on his knees gasping for breath it's so fast. Apparently Marco hit him really hard in the stomach with the hilt of his sword, I blinked and missed it, that’s how fast he was. The big blond walks over and forces him on his feet. I can’t help but notice his grip isn’t nearly as tight as mine was.

“Will your father pay ransom?” Captain Marco asks after Bertholdt lifts his head.

“Likely not. I don’t have any money either, so don’t ask.” His breathlessness and heavy accent makes it nearly impossible for me to understand him, but I got the gist. They talk a tad bit more, but I don’t hear it. I’m too busy drowning in my own anxiety. I don’t have money, I have no family. Fuck fuck fuck.

Marco shouts in that language and Bertholdt is forcefully dragged on board the other ship. Maybe there’s hope for me yet. Rather be pressed than thrown overboard… or sold in auction. Slavery is a thing here right?

Marco flips the page of the little journal and continues with the names. Maybe they’re not in alphabetical order, because he just called out a guy named Dot Pixis. The fuck kind of name is that? He happily joins a group of young woman looking very fine in their silk gowns and expensive purses. Must be loaded then.

There isn’t many people aboard now. Most have been dragged onto the other ship, others sit quietly across the deck. Then there’s me and about a dozen or so more people standing around, starting to get impatient. There’s a lot more passengers on this ship than I originally thought.

“Eren Jah-Jay-” Marco frowns and a woman dressed in a tattered skirt and tight fitting vest leans over Marco’s shoulder.

“Jaeger sir. It’s German.”

“I see. Eren Jaeger?” the pirate captain looks around for a raised hand. Silence. He calls out the name again.

“Already aboard. He was the boy that girl took over.” I say before I can stop myself. Goddammit.

Worse is that he seems rather happy that I’m the one to respond. Double fuck. “And you are?”

I don’t say shit. I don’t want too, I want nothing to do with this shit. He scowls and walks away muttering under his breath. The woman who helped him with Eren’s surname giggles. Freckles disappear into the crevices of his frown.

He doesn’t go two steps before he calls out my name. “Jeen... wait no, Kirs-Kirsch-Kistine? Why do all you white people have such complicated names?” he sighs and smack the book into his assistants chest.

“Which name sir?” she sighs as if this is a regular occurrence. He points somewhere on the page and I’m about to fuckin pass out. “Jean Kirschtien?” they both look up and Marco eyes me and my sweating intensifies.

“Y-you’re lookin’ at him.” Oh my god that was lame. Really lame. Shit, he’s coming closer. Go away. Go away. Go away.

“Jean?” he tilts his head like a curious puppy, short black hair shift above his forehead. “Never had a French man before.” He smiles like he just found his favorite toy after months of searching.

The blond man comes up from behind his captain and says in slow Asian. “Yīgè xīn de wánjù, xiānshēng?” now that I think about it, they might be speaking Chinese. I don’t know.

“Yěxǔ, Lái nà” Marco is uncomfortably close. Something about their exchange has my skin crawling. He slowly walks around me, inspecting me. And I can’t help but cringe away when he settles a hand on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

I freeze when those hands travel down my sides and onto hips. I try and step away, but that blond guy gets in the way. When those same hands dive under my shirt and explores my chest, I’ve had enough and elbow him in the jaw as hard as I can. I miss. Of fucking course I miss, but at least he jumped away. I jump away too but Largey McLarge grabs me from behind with one arm effectively pinning me to his barrel chest.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He tuts in my ears.

“Fuck off. Don’t touch me!” I try to use his death hold to kick the scheming pirate captain but he easily grabs my leg and starts fucking squeezing my calves. What. The. Fuck. He moves higher and does the same to my thigh.

I’m starting to get scared now.

Captain Handsy nods appreciatively and moves even close cupping here and there. All while I thrash and curse in the other’s arms. And suddenly his hands are in my pants and I go fucking ballistic. “Espece de sale monstre! Lâche-moi, espece de gorille! Va te faire foutre, me touche pas!” _You sick fucking freak! Let go you gorilla! Fuck you, don’t touch me!_ I said. Somehow I’m able to kick the asshole in the goods hard enough for him to loosen his grip and I wiggle out and fucking book it.

It’s useless I know, because the rest of whatever crew is on board circles around me and that touchy bastard is strolling toward me like he didn’t just touch my dick. “Pervers!” _Pervert!_

He sighs so deep and sadly shaking his head like he’s so disappointed. What the fuck he thinks going to happen, sticking a hand down some random guy’s pants? “Reiner.”

“Just- ah fuck. Gimme a moment.” The large blond wheezes slowly standing up. I can’t help but give a satisfactory smirk at my work. At least I impressed a few people before I die.

“We don’t have a moment. This ocean is crawling with Navy ships. I’d rather not get caught by them.” He sounds irritated. Don’t blame him, we’ve been in the same spot for hours.

Reiner clears his throat and charges me. I let an undignified yelp slip out and try to dodge, but for a big guy, he’s fast and next thing I know there’s a very sharp knife at my throat and a thick arm across my chest. I don’t dare move.

“Much better.” The pirate continues his molestation of my body and finally tries to pry my mouth open. I bite him. “Reiner.” He barks.

A massive hand lets go of the dagger to pry open my jaw by placing painful pressure on the joints. “Ah!” it fucking hurts, and I can feel tears of humiliation prickle in my eyes.

Marco helps himself to opening it the rest of the way and seems to be counting teeth. “Good, good. Adult healthy, has all teeth, none rotten. Toned body, firm buttocks, no visible trauma… handsome… like a firework.” He smile so big and bright at my flamed face. I want to hit him so fucking bad.

He nods to Reiner and he drops me like a sack of rocks.

“Jean? How would you like-“

“Va bouffer ta merde.” And I spit at his feet before he can finish. _Eat shit_.

I regret that saying that so fucking much he looks pissed. So pissed. Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m going to die.

“Too bad.” He spits back and fucking twirls to face everyone else. “Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a delight. We’re not going to sink you, but for the slowness and uncooperative people,” he gives me a glare that I send right back at him. “We will be taking all your provisions and every, how you say? Cent? Yes cent you have.”

He turns away from the growling and howling and addresses his crew “Cǎiqǔ yīqiè, jìnliàng bù shānghài rènhé rén. Lái nà qǐng liú xiàlái.” The big guy nods and there’s cheers from the melting pot crew of pirates. Marco turns to me and I feel dread sink so low and deep within me.

I flinch violently away from his hand as he raises it to run through my hair. He frowns in disappointment and I growl at him. “Jí dǎo tā. Tā shì wǒ de.” He says.

I back away. I don’t like the look Reiner is giving me, I don’t like the look of sorrow on that freckled face. I feel like crying holy shit, this is it, I’m going to die. And all because I hopped the first ship out of France on a whim.

Reiner raises a club I hadn’t noticed he had and brings it down hard on my head. I feel wood hit my knees and everything is blurry, there’s sticky warmth starting a steady trickle down my cheek. Ow, fuck that hurt. I don’t see the next hit, but now there’s black spots in my vision and my hand shakily goes to my bleeding head.

I’m out before the next hit is even lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations in order:
> 
> A new toy sir? [Reiner]  
> Perhaps, Reiner. [Marco]  
> Take everything, try not to harm anyone. Reiner please stay. [Marco]  
> Knock him out. He’s mine. [Marco]


	2. While Jean Isn't Conscious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Marco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Than you for so much love omg!
> 
> I'm menstralcycling on tumblr go to me fore questions on this au
> 
> also italic is Marco/crew speaking Chinese in case you're confused.

It hurts to watch Jean’s bewildered face as he collapses onto his knees. The fear in his tawny eyes wide with pain, his trembling tied hands reaching for his wounded head. The second hit actually makes me wince, Jean is shaking his head, like he’s trying to clear it. I’m about to stop Reiner’s third hit when the Frenchman finally falls to the deck.

I breathe in relief, can’t have my new toy be broken already can I?

“Take him to Levi will you? He’s filthy, honestly, don’t these Europeans bathe?” Reiner gives me a look but does as I ask.

 _“Captain, what should we do with the ransoms?”_ Ah poo, I forgot about them.

“ _Take them aboard too please. Be gentle now, they’re worth a lot of money!”_ My crew calls out a chorus of ‘Aye’s’. “Don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, we’ll take care of you.” I reassure the scared people. The pretty people will be sent to the slave auctions, not really my style but I’m short on cash and the secret to a faithful crew is money in their hands. The rest stay on the ship.

It takes longer than I’d like, but eventually all cargo is transferred to my ship and we push off as fast as the wind allows. I’m rather excited to have this Pixis guy aboard, I’ve heard a lot of stories about him I’d definitely would like to confirm them myself. But alas, the chaos of placing cargo and shouting orders at the top of my lungs takes a toll on me and I find myself wandering towards the bathing deck at the end of the day with orders to my crew be good and behave themselves.

Levi - a French-Italian man I picked up some time ago during the brief time I was in the Mediterranean, he was fleeing a man by the name of Smith; he gave no more, and I’ve asked the same - is standing by the bath’s doors.

He frowns and points to a bloody man gently laid on a blanket on the floor- oh, it’s Jean. His hands are still tied. Why is he still out here? “Who the fuck is that?” Levi demands. He’s wearing a midnight blue hanfu, he took to the Chinese style quickly. Though he's said he prefers the Japanese yukata.

“Jean. I would’ve liked him bathed and dressed before I came down here, but I see that hasn’t been done.” I say bending down to pick him up. His head flops like a doll and for a moment I think he’s dead, but more blood leaks from the scabs forming. Closer inspection shows his chest moving very shallowly.

“What am I supposed to think when Reiner just leaves a boy of hardly seventeen on my door step?” Levi growls slamming his doors open. They’re not really his quarters, but he’s in charge of this deck. And his room is connected to the main bathing rooms. Jean does look rather young doesn't he?

The room we walk through is dotted with pristine tubs of every material from wood to porcelain. I prefer the porcelain, but the wooden tubs are bigger. Steam greats our skin and Levi disappears mumbling angrily. “First that shitty brat and that blond, broken leg,” he shouts that back at me. “Now Captain’s new toy, fucking great.”

“They’re Mikasa’s family. I can’t say no to her. She’d walk out.” Jean groans as I place him on another mat to strip him of his clothes.

“Leave him to me.” Levi barks coming in with a bucket of medical supplies. “Disgusting, quit getting Reiner to club people. Don’t be surprised if he’s daft now.” He shoos me away and I reluctantly begin my own bath. I took one this morning, but another one can't hurt.

Levi has Jean in a clean tub of fresh water and is violently scrubbing away the filth. I’m surprised Jean hasn’t woken up through it. Maybe Reiner hit him a little too hard? What if Jean has brain swelling? Oh dear…

“How much we got this time?” Levi is being gentler now that the first layer has been scraped off.

I sigh, will this day ever end? “Um, there was about two hundred people aboard that ship. About fifty will serve as ransom, another fifty at auction, and about ten for the crew. The rest stayed. We stripped them of everything of value. Won’t know how much anything is worth till I go in and count. Most treasures are of the European variety, so I’ll need help.” Eyes slide to Levi who nods. He’s scrubbing Jean’s coarse hair. Hopefully it’s coarse because of the salty air.

It’s amazing how utterly limp the boy is. So unresponsive, it gives me worry.

“So Mikasa has her family back does she?” Levi asks breaking the silence.

I sink further into the water blowing bubbles. “I suppose so. Never did tell me everything. No one ever does.”

“You’re a dangerous man Marco Bodt.” Levi comments as he easily lifts a man twice his height on his shoulders; there’s still blood dripping from that wound.

“I’m not that dangerous. There’s plenty on this ship who could easily take me out. Including you.” Hugging the side I splash around a bit.

Levi snorts in contempt. “You have an uncanny ability to take the fight out of people. One word and a man drops his sword.” The short man leaves the room with a dripping Frenchman.

Well. It certainly explains how we got out of that jam a few months ago.

Jean is dressed and already nestled in his new bed by the time I get back to my cabin. I sigh content, he looks so nice in oriental clothing. The bright red silk really complements his skin tone. A white bandage is wrapped around his head, a small red patch is starting to show up where Reiner hit him. His hair is freshly cut and clean, I have an urge to pet him, but I reserve the touching till he wakes. It's no fun when they're unconscious.

His breathing is deeper now, that’s a good sign right?

Knocking from my doors makes me jump. Really now. _“Who is it?”_

 _“Us Captain.”_ It’s Mikasa. Sighing I open the door for them to come in.

She’s dressed in her favorite sleep robes, Reiner hadn’t changed yet, still in his knee breeches and jerkin. Reiner never cared for silk, he’ll wear it for formal occasions, but never on duty. He’s dragging that Indian boy in with him, he hasn’t taken to my culture, rather kept to his lose fitting tunics and pants. I step aside, wandering back to my little crackling ember of a Frenchman.

“Quietly.” I demand after that German boy stumbles in and the short blond hobbles in on crutches, he wears a white hanfu. “What do you want? I’m about to sleep.” Honestly can’t this wait till tomorrow?

Everyone’s eyes land on Jean who groans and twitches in his sleep. I can feel a headache coming on.

“What the hell happened to him?” the German demands. He is already in oriental clothing, my own culture it seems. I can tell the boy feels a bit uncomfortable in them, but he seems to like them. He looks splendid in the jade green jacket that he has rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. The pants of the same shade are tied at the knee.

“Watch who you’re talking to boy.” I growl, “Really, don’t you Germans possess a shred of respect for anyone?” once again Frenchie groans and my eyes flick over him, making sure he’s secure and not waking up.

Color flares in his cheeks and he looks down sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Now, what do you want?”

“They wish to join the crew Marco.” Reiner whispers.

Oh my god. “And this couldn’t have waited until morning?” Honestly. Well, might as well get it over with. Dang it. My crew plus three give each other wary glances. “Fine. Just be quiet. I’m not in the mood to deal with him waking up.”

I dig around in my desk till I find the log book and flip to the next clean page. I’ll have to acquire a new one soon. “Name, age, rate, origin.” I dip a pen and wait.

“Eren Jaeger.” Eren pipes up, he doesn’t seem to be the kind of man to just turn pirate to me. I’ll have to keep an eye on him. I hope I spelled his name right. It’s in Chinese, so I don’t think it will matter anyway.

 “Alright, the rest. And hurry there’s only so much night.” I dip the pen again. Wonderful, I’ll need ink and a new quill as well. Can this day get anymore irritating?

“Twenty-one. I’m not sure what you mean by rate though.” Eren’s cheeks are a light pink.

Dear lord, I look to Mikasa for help. “He’s a fighter. He can sail and navigate like any other man. He excels in combat. What he doesn’t know, he learns fast.” I nod and add the information, I’ll update it when I get to know him better.

“Continue.”

“German with Turkish ancestry.” He finishes in a hurry.

“Next.”

“Armin Arlet. Twenty come this November. I- I’m not strong but-” he bites his lip and I’m losing patience.

“He’s a genius.” Eren shouts, then covers his mouth. “He can just look at something and remember it instantly.”

“Fine, whatever. Origin?” I dip the pen for the fifth time.

“European? I guess? A little German, a little Brit or Swedish, I don’t know. My parents never liked to stay in one place too long.” He switches his weight with the roll of the ship. Must be hard to balance on those crutches on a ship. Something in me tells me he’s with holding information though. Just another person to keep an eye on. Lovely.

“Last?”

“Bertholdt Hoover.” The Indian says.

His accent makes the English sound funny. His name isn’t Indian, must be named after his father then. “Go on.” My eyes are starting to burn. I never stay up this late if I can help it.

“Twenty-four come December. I have no clue how to sail or navigate waters. I’m only joining because I do not wish to be auctioned nor do I have anything left to go home to in India. You already know my origin.” Bertholdt comes off as a shy guy, but he sure has a lot to say. I like him.

It seems Reiner has taken a liking to him as well.

I blow on the slow drying ink and slam the book closed. “If that’s all please leave. I am tired and don’t wish to be disturbed unless an emergency or my breakfast is ready. I would like Jean’s brought to me as well please.” I herd them away and practically shove them out the door. “Good night.”

_Finally._

Slipping past Jean I head for my own bed. It’s not much, just a four posted bed made of possibly oak with nearly see-through silver drapes I can close if I want. I hocked it off the ship _Daring_. Did I dare? Yes, yes I did. The pillows and blankets from every corner of the known planet. Very comfortable and it beckons me like a naked lover.

Don’t mind if I do.

One last glance at sleeping beauty before I snuff out the lantern and let the creaks of my beloved ship lull me to sleep.

* * *

I’m already awake when there’s a soft knock upon my door. Sasha, a young Scottish girl who fled her war torn country, backs her way in through the door. She turns around carrying a tray of food enough for two people. “Is he awake yet Marco?”

I glance over at Jean, he’s still out cold but now it appears he’s sleeping rather than just unconscious. “No. I hope he wakes soon. I would like to get his tantrum over with before I return to my duties.” Standing I take the tray from her and set it on a Japanese table I snatched from some British ship a year or two ago.

“How are our guests Sasha?”

“Complaining about being in the brig.” She sets out the plates for me while I go and change. I think cotton trousers and a firm fitting short sleeve Chinese shirt. Yes, it is quite warm out and this won’t over heat me too much. “Connie says if he’s called a nigger one more time he’s gonna throw them over board.” Sasha continues.

“Well what do they expect? They’re hostages. And what of our other money bags?” I come back to her sneaking a few bites of rice from my bowl.

“In despair.” She mumbles.

“Don’t blame them. I’ll be up after I’ve eaten. Set course for Singapore.” I say sitting down reaching for my food. Sasha nods and skips out of the room, dark reddish brown hair flipping as she goes.

Jean still has not woken by the time I’ve finished my meal. I loiter around for another half hour before I give up and take both our meals and leave him.

Eren nearly pounces on me as I enter the mess deck. “Is Jean alright?”

“Are you two lovers or something?” I’m genuinely curious as Jean had jumped in front of Eren and seemed particularly protective of him.

“N-no! But we’re friends, sorta, more frenemies. We went to the same schools mostly. Known each other a long time.” He stutters.

“He should be fine once he wakes up.” I say. Eren follows me down into the kitchens where I apologize to Sasha about the uneaten food. She shrugs and eats Jean’s portion instead.

“What are you going to do with him?” there’s a harsh tone to his voice and it surprises me greatly. All I’ve seen of this boy has been blushes and innocence. I turn around and look in his eyes, ah not so innocent are you? You’ve killed a man haven’t you Eren Jaeger?

“Keep him of course. My previous pet is in Africa I believe. She jumped ship in Sierra Leone. She stayed with me willingly, I don’t force my pets if that’s what you’re worried about.” This boy gives me caution, he plays the innocent card far too well in my opinion.

“Jean’s not going to like being a pet to a pirate.” Eren says, those eyes go back to being big and shiny. He is like a cat hiding the piles of mice bodies behind the couch.

“Perfect.” I smile down at him and he laughs. I like him, this Eren.

After dealing with the chore of being captain (setting course, shouting at sailors, etc.) I tromp off below decks toward the brig where my human cargo lay. I try my hardest to ignore the weeping and begging from the ladies and gentlemen from the slave side. I don’t like this, but I need the cash. Pixis is actually the first of my hostages I spot.

“Captain.” He nods, and I nod back. “The very fetching young lady that brought us that food said you wanted a word with me?”

“Oh yes!” I say excitedly dragging Connie’s chair toward me to sit in. “Tell me, I’ve heard some very wild rumors about you.”

“And you would like to know which ones are true?” the old man laughs.

“Yes please.”

Our talk goes on for about an hour, and I’m wondrously impressed and surprised at how much of those rumors are true. Our talk gets interrupted by Connie sticking his buzzed head in.

“You may want to look at this Marco. Looks like a storm.” Connie is dripping, must be raining.

“Ladies and gentlemen I’ll apologize in advance, looks like we’ll be sailing rough seas. Please don’t despair the Liúlàng zhě has the finest crew in the oceans!” it probably doesn’t cheer them much, but tough tootsies. I follow Connie out on deck.

It is in fact not raining, but there are heavy clouds gather over the horizon. It makes me wonder why Connie is wet. Oh well.

“Thomas, how far are we from port?” I yell over the commotion of the deck. The wind is picking up, but those clouds are far away, if we make port within the day we’ll beat the storm.

“Another day sir! But with this wind we can make it by dinner!” Thomas yells back. He’s at the helm at the moment. Usually he’s in the crow’s nest, but my previous helms master had fallen ill and passed away.

“Keep the pace up. I don’t doubt we’ll be having violently sick guests if we’re caught in that storm. No one wants an ill companion now do they?" Boy do I love the chorus of ‘Yes sir’s and ‘Aye Captain’s.

I notify Levi about the coming storm and he prepares enough seasickness remedies for our guests just in case.

I skip lunch to check on Jean and to update the log book. Jean still sleeps and I’m out of ink. Instead I switch to a coal pencil, it’s messy and eventually I run out of paper too. God dang it, Singapore better have basic scholar supplies.

Sasha brings in lunch (she refuses to let me skip it) and once again I eat alone and wait for Jean to wake. I’m starting to get worried, he has hardly moved since last night. The trays are sent away, once more a portion goes uneaten.

The ship begins to dip and rise in steady long periods - as if we’re sailing over large rolling waves. Hopefully it will get us to port faster. I’ll have to investigate how topside is getting on in this weather. My crew maybe seasoned, but no sailor - no matter what corner of this god forsaken globe they’re from - wishes to sail in a storm.

So I leave Jean still passed out, I’ll need to change his bandage soon.

Top deck has every sailor’s eyes on the darkening horizon. It’s coming closer faster than I thought. “How far Mr. Wagner?”

“I can see land now Sir. We’ll get there before the rain for sure.” Thomas shouts, eye to eye glass. I too turn and watch land get closer with every swell.

“Connie!” I jump startled as the little monkey drops down beside me. “Wish you would quit doing that.”

“What is it Cap’?” he laughs, he’s got a brown bandana hiding his nearly bald head.

“Give our guests a visit will you? Tell them we’ll be landing within the hour.” Connie scowls scratching his head over the bandana, but he leaves to do it anyway.

Mikasa comes up from deck and stands by my side. She’s in her own traditional clothing. Made of western cotton though I think. She’s followed by Eren who hasn’t yet changed from the clothing he was wearing last night.

“How is Armin?” I ask to start conversation.

“Well.” Mikasa replies. Sometimes it’s annoying how brief dear Mikasa is. It’s rare to get her into a deep conversation, and even then it’s all ‘the world is cruel but beautiful’, or just saying ‘I don’t think so’ if she doesn’t agree with you or ‘I think the same’ if she does.

Eren shrugs but doesn’t seem bothered by her answer. “Where’re we headed?” he asks eyes on the sliver of dark green in the distance.

“Singapore to sell the cargo we-“

“Stole.”

“ _Commandeered_.” I finish. Eren snorts and rolls his eyes.

“You’re lacking a lot of medical things in your stores.” Eren faces me, “I can go ashore and get some if you want, I’ll need a translator though. I don’t know the language.”

“How do you know what I have in my stores and what I need? Why should I trust you?” I snap my spy glass shut and shove it in my pocket.

Eren shrugs again, “My dad was rather fond of eastern medicine, he was a doctor and I kind of tagged along with him everywhere after mom died.” He shyly rubs the back of his head, brown strands follow the faster wind. “I kind of couldn’t sleep last night and snooped.”

“Mikasa can go with you can’t you?” she nods and hides her mouth behind that red scarf she always wears. “She knows enough to get by.”

I jog back below deck before anyone else can approach me. My boots echo along the empty hall to my room. I can hear a pained moan and my heart jumps a bit. Is Jean finally awake? And just in time to make port. Better keep him locked in so he can’t jump ship.

The door opens with a loud squeak alerting the red clad man of my presence. He sits up a hand going up to the bandage then looking at his hand as if looking for blood. He does this a few time before I interrupt him. “Finally among the living are we pet?”

His head whips my direction so fast I can hear his neck pop from the door. I step in and close the door snuggly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Levi is wearing: http://www.finechineseclothing.com/BACKEND/Resource/ProductPic/420_680/MHF-6032-2.jpg
> 
> Armin: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=41129206
> 
> Again if I've gotten anything wrong please let me know. I am an ignorant American who would like to know if I've done anything wrong regarding cultures.


	3. How Dare You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S ALIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR SO MUCH LOVE OMG I DIDN'T THINK PEOPLE WOULD LIKE THIS HOLY POO
> 
> OHOHOH, I COULDN'T FOCUS SO I DID SOME SHITTY DRAWINGS!  
> [Marco's room/Jolly Roger](http://rickylee727.tumblr.com/post/103449933688)

Ah shit. Fuck. Sonofabitch.

Color bursts behind eyelids, everything is too loud at the same time I can’t hear a damn thing. What the fuck? I’m afraid to move, to think, to even open my eyes. I can dimly hear a sigh and someone walk across hollow ground, it echoes across the floor I think I’m lying on. I think a door is closed and those footsteps stop echoing in my skull.

The air smell nice, kind of spicy though. Opening eyelids feels impossible, but I try anyway. It’s hard, but after a mysterious amount of time they open and dear lord in heaven I wish they hadn’t. Everything is bright and LOUD. Can light even be loud?

Okay, think Jean, why does your head hurt. Okay… uh... I was on a ship... um the- the- fuck I don’t remember the name of the ship. A stab of pain goes through the brain and I close my eyes tight, but it only makes things worse. Um… I went outside for fresh air? Yeah… then- then there were these pirates? And that gorilla hit me- mother fucker. I better not be dead.

Those same footsteps I think I heard earlier are coming back. They get louder and louder and I can feel my heart trying to escape my chest. Where am I? Who’s coming to me? It’s not till a very loud screech of whatever is behind me do I realize I can move. It’s slow, but I sit up.

What the fuck am I wearing? Whatever it doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t. Shit. Why the fuck does my head still hurt? Hands touch a squishy patch on my temple, but when I look at my hand there’s no blood or any other indication of a wound. Hair feels _strange_ though.

“Finally among the living my pet?”

That voice. I know that voice. My head whips so fast toward that voice it cracks and sends rapid pain signals hurdling into the brain. “Putain! Merde! Fils de pute!” What the everlasting hell made me think that was a good idea!? Cursing makes pain feel better right?

“Are you okay?”

“' Ca va aller?', qu'il demande. Quel con, bien sûrque non! Votre gorille m'a frappé à la tête dix fois!” What is English, I don’t fucking know seeing as I’ve completely forgotten how to speak it. Great. I need to re-learn that shitty language all over again. Great. Fucking terrific.

“I… do not understand you.” He says. I won’t dignify him with a name. _He_ hasn’t earned one. Fucking Chinese piece of merde.

He comes toward me though I don’t hear him. I can sense him getting closer. I don’t like it. Go away. Go away. Go away.

“We’ll have to change the bandage, you have bled through it.” He says trying to touch me again. I flin- _move_ away, even though it hurts like a bitch.

“Me touche pas ordure.” I growl, but he only frowns and tilts his head. _Don’t touch me trash._

“Can you speak English please? I know you can. I can’t help you if you’re shouting curses at me in your native tongue.” He stands and goes a very low table (completely useless so low to the floor in my opinion) and picks up a teapot.

“It’s too bad, lunch just finished and I already sent your food back to the kitchen.” I watch him head for the door. “Please behave yourself. I’ll be back with a medic and some tea.”

‘Be good’ he says. ‘I’m trying to help you’ he says. Fucking shitty liar is what he is. I would be thinking of escape plans if my head didn’t hurt so much and if we weren’t in the middle of the fucking ocean. At least I’m not dead right?

Goddammit. Why does all the really shitty things happen to me?

And what the hell am I wearing? It’s red. And very, I don’t know silky? Wait. Am I wearing silk? Holly shit. The pants are really loose, and they reach my ankle. I don’t even know. The shirt, I actually like the shirt. It’s red. Long sleeved. It has a collar and seems to button down the front, but there’s no buttons? I don’t know. It’s comfortable and at least I’m not naked.

The room I’m in is cluttered with stuff. Just stuff. Random stuff too. There’s a distinctive European bed over in the far corner. But don’t Asians sleep on the floor? Fuck if I know. Why am _I_ on the floor? _What_ am I even on?

I’m in a bowl. What the fuck? Seriously, there’s like this deep divot in the floor piled with pillows. The pillows range from oriental patterns to maybe Native American? From silk to cotton to linen. It’s like anytime Mar- _He_ comes across a pillow, he throw it in. There’s a blanket at my feet, I may have kicked it away during my trauma induced sleep. There's something around my ankle, probably just the blanket.

Jesus, doesn’t he know people can die from a blow to the head?

A desk is in the very back, right next to the bed. That desk is piled high with papers and books that make me curios; but I’m in far too much pain to even think about standing. I could probably crawl, but I’d rather keep my dignity thank you. It’s a little hard to see past the useless table because of a… curtain? Why is there a curtain? Wait no, that’s a window. Another desk is at the opposite end of the room, also piled with books and papers. Its closer, but not that close.

The door side is obscured by a curtain (sheer?). It’s completely see through but provides enough privacy between you and the door. Probably helps with sound control too. I don’t fucking know. My mom kept house, not me.

I think there’s a book shelf on the wall my bed is closest to, but another sheer curtain blocks the view and the light is too dim to see through it. Every other space is stuffed with well. Stuff. I think there’s a couple of swords by the door. I think that’s a giant teddy bear over there.

God my head hurts. It’s pounding rhythmically, like people stepping across my brain. Jesus, there’s voices too. Am I schizophrenic now?

“Levi, are you sure you know French?” Who the fuck is Levi?

I don’t know the reply, even if the voices in my head had even replied.

“Is he still bleeding?” Why the fuck is Jaeger’s voice in my head? That’s a million percent _not_ okay.

The door opens again and I realize with grand embarrassment that it was actually real life voices and I’m not really going crazy. Not yet anyway.

“Jean are you alright?” Eren says unnecessarily loudly.

“Ferme ta putain de gueule.” I still don’t know what the fuck English is yet. At least I can still understand it. Goddamn my heart hasn’t stopped pounding, nor have my hands stopped shaking. Shit. Am I scared?

“What he say?” Eren asks. He never did pick up the language well. Not harsh enough for him. Too elegant for his gross German tongue. It doesn’t help that my speech may be a bit slurred.

“Shut the hell up.” A man I don’t know replies.

“Levi!” “You little fucker!” Eren and Marco- shit. Fuck, whatever, _Marco_ shout at the same time. Pretty sure ‘little fucker’ was aimed at me though.

“Wait. He really said that?” It’s Marco this time, and he sounds bewildered.

I don’t know what this Levi guy did, but I feel like he rolled his eyes.

“Ich sollte dich an die Schweine verfüttern, du beschissener Frosch.” Eren kicks a pillow at me and I swear to god it takes everything in me not to turn around and strangle him. And I think he just called me a frog. Asshole.

“Qu'est-ce que tu want.” Wait, was that last part English? Oh thank god.

“Seems like that blow knocked the part of the brain responsible for language off center. Just give him time, he’ll figure out English again.” This Levi guy says. There’s rustling and three men come to kneel before me.

“Shit that’s a lot of blood.” Eren says prodding the bandage. I hiss and try to pull away, but small and surprisingly strong hands grip me to stay put.

“But, don’t head wounds bleed a lot anyway?” Marco asks. None of them have shoes on. That is a useless fact Jean. Oh go to hell.

“Hey brat, I’m going to unravel this. It might hurt. Try not to call out for mommy yeah?” Levi doesn’t wait for a reply before his arm bumps my nose over and over again as he unravels the damn cloth. Eren is getting out new cloth and what might me iodine. Oh god.

It doesn’t hurt till they get closer to skin. Dried blood has plastered hair and skin to the cloth and it stings like a bitch when they pull off. I can feel tears and colorful lights once more dance across my vision.

“Here, stop a sec Levi. Let me cut his hair back more.” Eren grabs medical scissors and snips away. The snipping sounds especially loud so close to my ears. I’d normally protest against this abuse to my hair, but Eren’s right, it might help.

I think I pass out for second because Marco is gently wiping away the blood and “Connard!” the hand pauses.

“Keep going. He means nothing.” Levi says and Marco continues cleaning. I’d like to pretend I didn’t cry like a bitch. But I did and it hurt.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t think Reiner would hit you so hard.” Marco apologizes over and over again.

“SHUT UP!” I push him away as hard as I can. I regret that so fucking much. Everything hurts. GOD _DAMMIT_!

“God damn it Jean. He’s trying to help.” Eren scolds. Fucking scolds. Unbelievable. Levi unmercifully soaks the wound in iodine. I’m proud to say that I didn’t cry out. I did cringe though.

God I hate this. The fight just drains out of me. Marco may have kidnapped me and is going to do gods knows what to me, but at least he has the decency to care for me and not throw me in the brig to rot. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but I’m too wound up and frustrated to care at the moment. I just want to eat something and go back to sleep.

Soon enough Levi and Eren pick up what medical supplies they have and leave the room, leaving me and Marco sitting in awkward silence.

Marco gets up, I don’t bother glancing up to see what he’s doing. There’s general rustling and a clinking of stuff and liquid pouring. “Here.”

I lift my head, vision swims. Marco is handing me a black cup with no handles. “What is it?” Hey look at that. My English is back.

“Tea.”

I look at the cup, then back to his face. “What’s in it?”

He looks confused. “Leaf juice? Water?”

“No I mean what is it?” I’m getting frustrated again.

“...Tea?” he’s taking back the cup and staring at me like I’ve gone crazy.

“I mean what kind of tea!” I throw my arms down like a tempered child. Fuck that hurt.

“Oh. Chamomile. It will help relax you.” He smiles and a few freckles disappear as he does.

“Oh.” I take the offered cup and sip it. It’s good and warm.

“Sasha will be bringing dinner soon. You should eat, she’s an excellent cook.” He says sitting in the pillow nest with me. “We’ll be at port within the hour. You’re in no condition to try and escape.” He warns in a serious tone.

I snort. Whatever. Probably won’t be able to get up without disgracing myself. I take another sip and burrow my feet under pillows. I’m starting to get cold now. Was the air this charged before?

There’s heavy footsteps jogging our way and we both look up at the massive blond barreling through the ajar door. “We’re making port. We need you up top, dock fees.” Reiner says, he’s a little wet. Do pirates even pay dock fees? Apparently these guys do.

“And what of the conditions out there?” Marco asks standing. He brings that useless table closer, I guess so I can reach the tea pot. How nice of him. Still an asshole though.

“Drizzling. Thomas thinks the storm will skirt us, but can’t be sure.” Reiner answers hanging off the door.

“Huòwù jiàng zài shàngwǔ jìnxíng chǔlǐ jí kě.” Okay, rude. I’m right here and likely not making a run for it any time soon. You can speak English fucker. “Ér méiyǒule kèrén xīyǐn tāmen de sǐwáng.”

“Wǒ tā chūshòu?” Reiner jerks his head at me. I can feel my skin crawl again.

“No.” Marco’s voice is harsh and unforgiving. “Méiyǒu rén pèng tā, dàn wǒ, míngbái ma?”

“Crystal. I’ll make sure the crew knows too.” Reiner jogs away. He jogs back. “Oh. And sorry ‘bout that head.” He smirks tapping his own head. I glare at him as best I can through the pain. The fucker laughs and jogs away again.

But then the reality of what they said smacks me in the face. My hands begin to shake, the grip on the black cup increases till my knuckles are bone white. What’s going to happen to me? I think I know, given the ‘special’ treatment I’ve been given and the fact that I’m in the _captain’s_ room, but I can’t quite compute it. I feel like if I acknowledge what that I means I’ll- I’ll break down or something. I’m so scared.

“I am going above deck to deal with business. I will bring food when I come back. There will be a guard posted, so don’t even try to run.” He waggles his finger at me like I’m some child reaching for the forbidden cookie jar.

I just nod and gulp my scalding tea. Fuck that’s hot. Where would a white boy run to in these foreign waters anyway?

The tea is cold by the time Marco comes back with a tray full of food. He’s soaked to the bone and dripping everywhere. Light flashes every once in a while, followed by booming cracks. So the storm is upon us.

“Just a moment, don’t eat yet, let me put on dry clothes first.” He carefully places the food on the useless table and hurries to the end of the room to change. Guess that’s where his clothes are. I watch him strip off clothes and drop them to the floor with a heavy splat. I watch him out of curiosity mostly, what’s an Asian boy look down under? Most likely the same as me. I wouldn’t know.

My face flames against my will as he bends down and riffles through a drawer I hadn’t noticed before. He looks the same. His butt is awfully round for a man though. Marco wiggles into some trousers. The way the blue material shines in the meager light gives me the impression that they’re silk. He throws on a linen colored tunic, Hindi style I think.

I should probably start to learn these people’s cultures since I’m down here.

“What about your wet clothes?” I nod my head to them and he jerks like he hadn’t know I was watching him. Probably didn't.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes.” He smiles and trots over.

Marco lifts that table and wiggles it between us in the bowl so it doesn’t wobble while we use it. I guess this table isn’t as useless as I thought.

“Well? Dig in, it’s good!” Marco exclaims already stuffing his face full of brown slimy noodle stuff. He’s using sticks to. What the hell? “Can you not use chopsticks? That’s okay, you’ll need to learn though. Here.” He grabs those sticks and places them in my hands.

No. stop. Just give me a fork.

“Hold them like a quill. Kinda.” I shift my hands. “Yeah! Like that! Now just-” he demonstrates and I watch. This is stupid. Of all the utensils how did two sticks win out- hey this is kind of easy. Okay, but what the hell am I eating?

The food is hardly recognizable. There’s two bowls of rice, I think that’s cow… boiled cucumber? Is that chicken? It smells good… I don’t know, the last time I had foreign food I was sick in bed for two days. How the fuck do you eat rice with a stick though. Can I have a fork please?

“Um... what the hell am I eating?” I finally ask. He’s downed his first bowl of what I think might be pork.

“Hm?” Marco places his bowl down and pours us both cold tea. “What?”

I point to dishes as he names them. “Chāshāo. It’s pig. Really good.” “Zhájiàngmiàn, looks like Sasha use chicken instead. It’s just noodles in sauce Jean, I promise its good!” “Try this vegetable stew, I don’t know what it’s called, it is not from here I don’t think.”

I take his word for it, though that thousand year old egg made me gag a little, (he promised it’s not, just a boiled egg, usually you leave it alone for a few weeks and- I cut him off. I’m not eating a rotten egg). I’m starving and too exhausted to demand food less exotic. It’s good, really good. Holy shit. He laughs as I chow down.

You know, chopsticks are pretty fucking easy to use. Maybe it’s because I have more control over my fingers? I played piano once, before things went to hell of course. I wasn't very good. And he just stares at me, like he did yesterday, shit was it just yesterday? Wait. How long have I been unconscious? Marco seems to notice my mood.

“What is it?”

“How long have I been out?”

“Out? You haven’t gone anywhere- oh you mean-" he blushes at his blunder, “Just a day? I brought you on just yesterday afternoon and you woke just after lunch.”

Oh. Good. That makes me feel so much better. Man I missed three meals, no wonder I’m so hungry. God this food is making me sleepy. Quit staring at me fuck.

“Jean. What did you say yesterday when you kicked Reiner?” he asks shyly stacking empty bowls and removing the table. Everything is starting to spin, what the hell was in that food? Marco looks a little sleepy too though. Aw man, no one’s trying to poison the captain are they? I don’t want to be caught up in that!

“Huh?”

“Yesterday. You said something that sounded like ‘Gorilla’. You said it again today. Were you calling Reiner a gorilla?” he bustling around pulling out blankets from out of the shadows.

“Oh.” Shit, what _did_ I say, everything is still a blur. “Oh.” I repeat. “Um… I called you a sick freak and told your gorilla to let go and don’t touch me.”

“Sick freak? I’m not-"

“You stuck your nasty hands down my pants.” I interrupt him suddenly angry. Who the fuck he think he is?

“I only wanted to make sure you were male. I’ve made advances on woman by mistake, they still end up as nice pets though.” It’s a lie. A shitty really bad lie.

“And your perverse exploration of my chest didn’t clue you in?” I’m growling now, my head throbs.

He jolts, knowing he’s caught in the lie. Did he just refer to me as a pet? That bastard! Before I can get angry he breaks in.

“And when you spat at me?” he’s facing me now. The flickering candle light cast ominous shadows across his face.

“I told you to eat shit. And you can eat shit now.” I turn toward the door, away from him.

He looks sad. How dare you. I’m the one who’s supposed to be sad. Strangely I’m not though; just scared and angry.

“And when I came in this morning?”

“Just some curse words. My head hurts.”

“And after that?” his voice is closer. Go away.

“I said I wasn’t. Your gorilla hit me ten times.” He has the audacity to giggle.

“He only hit you twice. He was going to hit you a third time but you fell over.” There’s sudden weight on me. “You’ll need those. It might get cold tonight.”

I just grunt. Kindness won’t win me over stupid pirate. Shit. Does this make me a pirate too? No. Naw. Can’t. I’m not part of the crew… I don’t know.

“Go to sleep pet.” Marco runs his fingers through my hair. I jerk away with a growl.

“Don’t touch me.” I curl tighter pulling blankets over me till he can’t see me. My head still pounds, the ship – even moored - still rocks, the rain still beats and lightning still flashes.

The lights dim as Marco goes around blowing out candles and snuffing out lanterns. I can feel eyes become glued shut as Marco whispers a low “Goodnight pet.”

I’m going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation in order (brought to you by Google):  
> Are you okay? he says. Of fucking course not! Your gorilla hit me in the head ten times! [Jean]  
> I should feed you to the pigs, you shitty frog. [Eren]  
> What do you [Jean]  
> Motherfucker [Jean]  
> Cargo will be dealt with in the morning then. [Marco]  
> Rather not have out guest catch their death. [Marco]  
> Is he for sale? [Reiner]  
> No one is to touch him but me, understand? [Marco]
> 
> Once again if there's any mistakes, or better translations please don't hesitate to tell me! [just had someone correct the French. Thank you again!] And the German!
> 
> Also visit me on tumblr. I get lonely and love input!


	4. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fucks up man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hurt myself writing this ;-;
> 
> Italics are Marco speaking Chinese

Dawn comes entirely too early in my opinion. But I stand and dress anyway, full Chinese dress of course – Singapore doesn’t trust the western cloth – and throw open the curtains revealing a cloud filled day, but no rain, bit windy though.

Jean grumbles getting a face full of over cast sun; he turns around muttering under his breath. Oh well. I decide to keep the curtains open and stroll toward the desk close by and riffle through the miscellaneous papers till I find an empty parchment. Time to make a list.

Let’s see I’ll need ink, a new empty journal, should buy more than I need, new quills – there’s a quiet knock, “Just a moment please!”  Everything is quickly written down before the door opens.

It’s Mikasa with food. _“Connie and Reiner are getting the human cargo ready, Levi is appraising the goods and estimating prize range. He wants your opinion on some Korean pottery though. I’ll be leaving with Eren as soon as we eat.”_

“Good. Good. Thank you, tell Levi I’ll be up in a moment if you run into him.” Mikasa leaves. “Jean, breakfast.” He looks up from his nest and scowls burrowing deeper into the pillows.

“Too early for this shit. Leave me alone.” His voice is muffled under the blankets.

“Alright, I’ll leave your food on the table. I am going to be gone for most the morning, please don’t try to escape today, there won’t be enough people to keep an eye on you and I am getting rather fond of you.” He gives me a crude hand gesture. Rude.

I don’t know what Jean is thinking, I wish I knew. It might make dealing with his crass attitude easier. I'm starting to think he isn't worth all the effort. Sighing I eat in a hurry, leaving the dirty bowls on the table in my haste to leave. “Be good pet, I’ll find you a gift okay?”

The bowl from the table narrowly hits my head. Rude. Need to train him out of that.

Reiner is waiting for me, behind him are the fifty or so future slaves – all sniveling or glaring at us defiantly. “No trouble I hope? I want out of this port as soon as possible.”

“Nothing I can’t handle boss. Mikasa and that Eren kid just left. Bertholdt did too, hope he comes back.” Reiner sighs, “Am I to take them to our contact?”

“Wait till Levi is done, I want him to go with you.” I’m distracted by Pixis waving at me from across the deck, I go to him. “Yes?”

“That young lady there, with the platinum hair? She will be paying my ransom.” Pixis points at a short girl with chin length hair and glasses. She’s dressed very sharply in a men’s suit.

“Thomas! Please bring the young woman up here please!” Thomas is unloading some excess cargo we don’t need next to her. He points to the girl, “Yes her, she’s Pixis’s contact.”

She cuts right down to business. “Rico Brzenska. Dot Pixis’s unofficial daughter.”

“Marco Bodt, Captain of the Piāolíng Pirates, on board the Liúlàng zhě.” We pause to shake hands. This is the fastest I've ever gotten rid of a hostage. It's hardly been a day. “Now I’d like this brief and fast, I have much to do.”

“Rico, I believe I’m worth about three thousand? That’s the amount we agreed upon right Captain?” Pixis twirls his mustache. This man is so amusing.

“With how big that haul was, I would settle for just fifty, but yes three thousand is more than enough.” Rico silently hands me an envelope full of cash, I count it before I let them leave. All in order. Waving good bye to my favorite hostage I turn back to the business at hand.

Levi has made it on deck and is directing the unloading, already there seems to be a significant amount of buyers surrounding my ship. Weaving through all my crewmen is a task, but eventually I make it to where Levi is standing shouting orders.

“Careful with that you little shit, that vase is worth more than your filthy soul!” the poor sailor he yelled at trembles harder. “Ah, Marco, turns out we got some honest Korean merchants here and things are selling fast. We should be done with material objects by dinner. We can deal with the slaves tomorrow.”

“No, I want them off my ship as fast as possible. And we shouldn’t sell everything at this port, we can’t afford to bring too much attention to ourselves.” I tell him. He lifts a thin brow clearly impressed.

“Alright Bodt. Good thing I already split up cargo. Things will be done by midday if this pace keeps up. I’ll leave with Reiner to the auctions after lunch.” Levi pounds off shouting more orders.

Well that’s taken care of, hopefully nothing goes amiss while I’m on land. First thing’s first, to hide away the money. I’ve decided to split up the money when we’re at sea and give it to my crew as they get off at next port. That next port I believe may be Jakarta then perhaps India or Australia. Either way, I want open water, being boxed in these small seas makes me especially nervous.

Jean is up – sorta – and nibbling very sluggishly on rice. “Thought you were leaving?” he says through a mouthful of food.

“I am, just got caught up in business.” I wave the envelope at him. He raises a brow but says nothing. I hide it away in a loose board underneath my bed. There’s another hiding spot at the very bottom of the pillow pile, but I don’t want Jean up and moving yet. Not till that bandage is ready to come off. “I drugged the tea by the way. You need rest and it will keep you out of trouble.”

He chokes on said tea and ends up throwing the cup full of scalding liquid at me probably shouting every curse he knows in French. He throws a tantrum, but I guess his head starts to hurt again because he flips me off again and lays back down cradling his head. Poor baby.

“Jean, this is important. I’m locking the door from the inside, don’t let anyone in but me okay? Don’t worry I have the only key.” I’m in the process of shutting the door when Jean shouts at me.

“I’m not your guard dog!”

Well, not yet dear. Not yet.

I see Bertholdt jogging up the gangplank as I jog down. I grab his arm, “Where did you go I wonder?”

He shrugs me off. “I hid what was left of my money from your people. Wanted to go and see what Singapore has around.”

“So you’re staying?”

“I already told you, I have nothing left to go home to.” Bertholdt looks really sad, so I drop the topic. Well at least he’s back and not off raising alarm to the authorities.

“How is the shops?”

He shrugs, “Not as diverse as my country, but alright. Didn’t find anything I needed though.” He jogs up the rest of the gangplank.

Bertholdt feels like a merchant man to me. Hmm… Singapore hasn’t been offering much for poor pirates like me since the British started taking over East Asian ports. The buttholes. Taking out all my business. Pirate friendly ports are becoming increasingly rare, I like the ports that don’t harass my female crew, but even those are disappearing from the maps.

Damn them.

The weather is fair despite the black clouds and the chilly wind. Urchin children bump into people stealing their belongings and run as fast as their dirty little feet can carry them before their victims notice anything amiss. Stray cats yowl for attention and I’m reminded that I should probably get a cat. Maybe two, both Sasha and Levi have been complaining about finding rodents aboard. That can’t really be helped, but it can be controlled with a mouser.

Several directions later and a rather unfortunate run in with an urchin who thought they could pick pocket me, I finally find a place where parchment, ink and other such things are being sold. The hut has many well bound books that I browse through eagerly. I find a many interesting books and mentally map this shop as a very good one to come to. I also find two books of empty parchment with blue leather bindings. Perfect.

About twenty minutes later I purchase my findings and follow the afternoon crowd toward the harbor.

On my way back to the ship, I spot something very peculiar. There’s a man, crouched in an alley sniggering to himself and mumbling something about not going hungry for the night. Curious, I cautiously approach him, that’s when the tiny mewling reaches my ears. The man is crouching above a dead adult cat and five very tiny and wet kittens pawing at their mother trying to wake her.

Oh no. My heart.

 _“Please sir, how much want for kittens. All five?”_ I’m upon him, ready for force if need be. The dialect of this country is hard for me to remember, but I think I have it. I may be a pirate, but I’m not heartless, beside didn’t I just get done thinking about getting a cat anyway? And didn’t I tell Jean I’d get him a gift if he was good? He likes cats right? Everybody likes cats.

 _“Five gold each.”_ He says in a very sickly voice, I certainly hope I don’t catch whatever he has.

 _“I’ll give you ten for the lot. That's two per cat._ ” He looks at me like I’ve gone daft. But really, a cat isn’t worth five pieces of gold. “ _Come now, these babies won’t be enough for one meal. They may even give pox._ ” He recoils from them.

 _“Deal.”_ I don’t want to touch the man, so I toss the gold further into the alley and gather up the babies before he can find me.

It’s with a heavy heart that I find one of them had died on the way back to the ship. And a heavier heart to have another die as I bathed and fed them. I want to cry, these poor babies. The remaining three chow down like no tomorrow, their fluffy fur sticking in every direction now that they’re dry. Babies. They’re so cute.

“Marco?” I jump, not expecting Connie to catch me nuzzling kittens to my head. “O-oh my –ga-haha-d. OH MY GOD!” Connie doubles over and I can feel my face redden. “Whu-what are yew-you doing? Are those kittens?”

“…Yes.” I put my babies down gently, they go back to eating. “I found them.”

“Okay.” Connie stops laughing but he occasionally lets out a giggle as he peaks. “Reiner and Levi are back. They got a shit ton of cash too, Europeans must be in high demand these days.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in a moment. Don’t tell anyone about the kittens just yet, I want it to be a surprise.”

“Sure thing kitten Jesus.” He mocks salutes and bounds off. Humph.

Reiner hands me the bundle of money, nearly twenty-thousand. I quickly hide it within the depths of my jacket. I already know Levi took his cut, he’s just that kind of man. I pretend I don’t know anyway; he knows I know, that’s all that matters. Besides, Levi had warned me a long time ago that he might one day vanish in an instant, he’d like to have some extra cash if that time ever came. Don’t blame him.

Hmm, nearly thirty thousand to split up amongst the crew. That’s an awful lot, though me (being captain), Reiner, Levi, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha (the cook), Thomas and a few others it may end up with only ten thousand to split between everyone else and the Empress. Still enough to satisfy my motley people. Many may even leave this port, or the next.

Once you’re on the log book and have at least one voyage with me, you’re free to go. Just don’t rat me out.

I have a feeling that Eren might take over as ships doctor, Levi has been doing well but is no medic… ah well, as long as the kid knows what he’s doing. Need to speak with that Armin kid too. So much to do.

Jean is actually stepping out of my room, about to close the door when I return to put the money away. I stand there in the hall waiting for him to notice me, he leans on the closed door holding his head tenderly.

“What are you doing?”

“Holy shit!” he jumps in fright, a hand clutches the fabric at his chest. “Christ! Shit, make your presence known, give people heart attacks.” Jean backs away slowly. Is he afraid of me?

“What are you doing? I thought I told you to stay in the room and behave yourself.” I’m not very happy with him trying to move with that head wound. By the looks of it, he can’t seem to see straight.

“B-bathroom. Haven’t pissed since before you attacked.” Jean edges away trying to find a way around me, but I block the only way out. My room sits in a long corridor and a dead end. He can’t get past me without passing me.

“I’ll show you the privy in a minute.” I grab his arm and shove him back indoors.

“No you don’t understand. I really have to go. I really really really need to pee.” Jean shifts from foot to foot like some sort of terrible dance. “Come on! Hurry, I’m doing the pee-pee dance for Christ sakes!”

“Alright.” I laugh and he gives me one of his cute glares. “The pee-pee dance?”

“Shut the hell up. ‘S what my mère called it.” Jean looks away blushing.

“You’re what?”

“My mother.” Jeans eyes get a dark lost look to them, like he’s remembering something terrible. Mental note to ask new pet about past life. I think he’ll enjoy that kitten.

“Okay, let’s go.” I shove the money packet under some blankets. It’ll be fine, I’m locking the door anyway.

“Quit staring, fucking creep.” Jean has his back to me, already in the urination stance. I do admit to watching him. There’s just something about him that catches my interest. He’s so- so sharp. Crass. Rude. But then there’s this side he shows when he thinks I’m not watching. Tender. Scared. Thoughtful. It makes him so beautiful.

“I can’t go when you’re staring!” he shouts, voice echoing around us. Reluctantly I turn around. It’s not soon after a steady stream of piss fills the empty air.

“Oh god yes, that feels so good.” He sighs. I can picture his head back, shoulders relaxed, muscles unwound. My fondest dream is to someday make Jean says those words because of me, not just because he’s taking a satisfactory piss.

“Why don’t I have any underwear?”

“I do not know, I was not the one who put those clothes on you.” Jean freezes, the look on his face tells he hadn’t thought about who dressed him. Who bathed him. I can see that it frightens him.

“W-who-“

“Levi. I assume he’d assumed I would be-” I clear my throat not wanting to get into that territory yet. My pet needs to not be frightened of my presence before I can touch him in that way.

“Would be what?” he demands, those amber eyes flashing.

“Nothing pet.” Smiling always defuses tension. I grab his arm tightly to remind him who’s in charge and fast walk toward my room. I can feel it, he’s going to bolt any second now. We round the corner, all the while he’s trying to escape my grip. Finally I shove him in before slamming the door closed.

“Whu-what do you want from me!? I- I- don’t have anything I swear! What are you going to do to me!” he’s yelling so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole ship heard.

“Pet-”

“ANSWER ME! And I’m not your damn pet you- you sick freak! Pervert! Monster!” his face is red, there are tears in his eyes but they have yet to spill.

I see red, I see so much red. I rush at him and he backs away his angry bravado vanishing at the face of a madman. He’s backing away telling me not to touch him, leave me alone, go away. Well pearl I’m not going anywhere and you sure as hell aren’t going anywhere either. How dare he, after all the kindness I have shown him. After I had fed him, bathed him, mended his body, how dare he call me a monster.

His shoulders and in my grasp, but he fights like a cornered animal, he quickly realizes with growing dread that I’m much stronger than he is, and in a moment I have thrown into his pit. “You will behave yourself!” I shout at him, he cowers and the tender side of me wants to reach out and tell him how sorry I am, I won’t hurt you Jean, just be good. But no. He needs to learn. “You will sit there and behave yourself! Or so help me I’ll-I'll give you to the crew!” I won’t, but he doesn’t know that.

Jean looks toward the window, oh no. He’s going to jump. He bolts, but gets tangled in the pillows and falls, I grab him again before he can make another break for it, Jean is screaming- pleading to let him go, don’t touch me please, I have nothing. You have more than you can know you ungrateful frog! Once more I slam him into his bed and grab the ankle manacle and slap it on before he has the chance to kick.

Shaking and bleeding again he recoils as I stand. I haven’t been this angry in years, my chest heaves in great gasps. It takes everything in me not to start throwing things. “Don’t. You ever. Call me. A monster again. You hear me! You won’t like what you get.”

The door slams shut and the lock clicks loudly. I can hear Jean start to cry and all my anger drains. He’s just scared Marco, you haven’t told him anything. It’s only natural he’d lash out. To him you really are a monster. Jean’s calling for his mother now. Oh you poor boy. Wait? What’s that?

I press myself against the door, he’s muttering, half French half English gibberish. “Maman why’d you have to laissez-moi? J'ai nothing nothing. Père, you made maman weak après la mort.” It becomes muffled, like he’s buried himself. My hands are shaking. What have I done?

Oh my god.

I don’t know what to think, I don’t know what he’s saying, what those garbled words mean. I’m not even sure I heard them right. But they sound horrifying.

I need to fix this. I need to fix this before it’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't translate, but if you really want to know the bits of French I can give it to you.
> 
> Marco is a kitten nuzzler, fight me.


	5. What A Shitty Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IDK Jean I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a semi-depressing chapter
> 
> P.S. italics are Jean/Levi speaking French.

I don’t know how long I cried for a mother half a world away with a bullet in her head and the burnt remains of my childhood home her grave. I don’t know how long I sat there cursing my father for leaving first, weakening maman to the point of sickness. It wasn’t his fault. I know that. None of us could have stopped it. None of us could have foreseen the first signs that appeared. No one is to blame for maman getting it too and begging me to run.

If I could go back and change everything I wouldn’t. I did what I had to do. There’s no hope for my family if they’re already gone. Why cry about it now of all times? I thought I had already gotten it out of my system when I confessed to Eren. He didn’t pity me, he didn’t tell me I was right – that I did the right thing. He didn’t tell me I could have done something else. He just asked me if I regretted what I had done. I didn’t. I don’t. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Maman I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared. Marco got so angry. Why _me_?

I’m bleeding again, my head throbs with every rapid heartbeat. I can feel the blood seep from the edges of the bandage and slowly slide down my neck. I don’t have a tissue or handkerchief nearby and as crazy and stupid as this sounds I don’t want to ruin the clothes or Marco’s pretty blankets.

Marco.

He just… snapped.

The chain won’t let me go any further that the desk by the window. It’s a stretch though. I can just barely touch the bookshelf if I lay down. The chain only allows comfortable movement within my so called bed. A glorified dog bed is more like it. I pull and dig and yank, but no matter the force I can’t get free. But at least the shackle is padded right? *insert heavy sarcasm* If I can just get out of this then I can jump out the window and into the harbor. I’m a strong swimmer, I can make shore, I can run. I don’t know the language, but I know there’s both French and British ships on this island. If I can’t gain passage I can sneak aboard an American ship. Maybe, maybe-

What’s the point?

I have no money, no family name to fall back on. I’m a lost white boy in a sea of Asians. I don’t look a bit Chinese, not a bit Japanese, or Singaporean? Is that what you call them? I don’t fucking know. At least here I have a roof over my head and food. Marco isn’t such a bad guy I mean-

NO. Jean Kirschtien, he attacked you just because you wanted answers. Very valid answers that you have the right to know. Don’t down play Marco’s behavior just because you yelled at him.

Okay, yeah. Yeah. I- I need to get out. I think I saw a quill on that desk, if I can reach it, maybe I can pick the lock? Okay.

It’s a stretch, my chained ankle lifts off the floor as I lean over the desk search through papers covered in some sort of boxy language. There’s some German and English too. I pay no attention to these. Where’s the pen. Where, where, where?

I can’t find it and every piece of paper is on the floor and the drawers are too far away. Maybe if I move the de- fucking bolted to the floor. Fuck. I sweep everything else off the surface.

_Thunk_

What? I search the floor for the object that made that sound. It’s a heavy paper weight; round, flat on the bottom and looks as if there’s a shell trapped within it. Well, it’s no pen, but maybe I can use it to smash the lock?

I’m on the tenth hit and the chain isn’t so much as denting, the weight on the other hand is scratched up and on the verge of shattering. I’m too afraid to try the actual cuff, what if I slip? I could seriously injure the ankle, and then escaping would be useless on a useless foot.

The lock rattles and I can feel my heart nose dive to my feet. Shit. Shit. Shit. I shove the weight underneath the pillows just as Marco opens the door. He’s not looking up from the floor. His slippered feet scuffle the floor boards.

What do you want now?

He shuts the door and locks it again. Weathered hands play with the hem of his shirt-thing. Lips open and close multiple times.

“I’m sorry.” SORRY? What the actual fuck? He turns around his shoulders shaking. Is he fucking crying? “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Marco squishes the heel of his palms into his eyes. I don’t like this. He shouldn’t be crying. I’m so confused. “I just don’t like that word. I-it triggered a lot of me-memories I’d rather not-” He doesn’t finish, he’s choking on his words. Red blotches cover his freckles, I can hardly make them out anymore. Okay. Okay, I-I think I can understand that.

But that doesn’t- that doesn’t excuse anything.

“What am I supposed to think when a pirate ship takes over and a crazy Chinese man in flashy clothing has his goon knock me out and I wake up with no idea where I am? Only-only to find I’m in the captain’s cabin and he’s calling me a pet?” my hands won’t stop shaking, I can literally feel my knees knock into each other.

Marco shrugs and edges toward the mess I created. His hands tremble as he picks up books. “I- did want you in that way. I. I saw you on the _Passenger_ and I couldn’t stop looking at you. I just wanted. I just. I still. If you’ll let me.” So that’s what the ship was named. All this time I thought it was called _Sausage_. I think normally I would be flattered that a –grudgingly admittedly- handsome guy found me interesting.

But- my anger is fading. I don’t understand, if this was Eren, I would have killed him. I- what has this monster done to me? Why am I not angry at him? The shakes intensify. Marco is violently sniffling apologies when I flinch any time he comes within a few feet of me. He’s still picking up rogue papers that’s mostly just scattered by me now. There’s something in French by my seat. Marco doesn’t dare get any closer. Good. Come any closer and you’ll be sporting a larger head wound than me. Fucker.

Jesus, even the curses in my own head have lost its spark.

“What do you want?” My voice is cracked and shaky. Christ, shoot me now.

“I- just want a pet.” Pathetic Marco. Really fucking pathetic.

“Then get a dog.” I put as much hatred as I can into those words.

“I can’t se-seek comforts of the physical kind from a dog Jean.” Sex? That’s what this is all about!? SEX!? Un-fucking-believable! Sex. He wants some cute little foreign guy with no one and nowhere just to give up my life just for his pleasure?

“Then buy a _whore_.”

“And risk disease?” he sounds shrilly. My god. You’re a pirate, pirates are filthy, nasty. Unclean. Disease, you want disease? Go to France.

“The fuck if I care you get some shitty whore’s disease!” I’m standing now, raging, “If you want sex so fucking bad I’m sure there’s plenty of whores around the world clean enough for you! Look how many girls blindly follow you! Pick a guy, every sailor is a little queer!”

“I don’t want them! I want something permanent. A lover. A friend. Family!” Marco takes a step toward me, I step back in fright. Don’t come near me. “I don’t just want sex, I want companionship. It’s so unbearably lonely.”

“And you have to kidnap people to do it!? What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“I’m a pirate!!”

“And that excuses you right!? Oh sorry about nearly bludgeoning you to death and forcing you to live in a glorified dog bed! Sorry about not telling you I’d like to have gross man sex with you. Sorry I basically stole your life away to make you into some sort of exotic pet! FUCK YOU! AND FUCK EVERYTHING!” There’s black spots dancing across my eyes, Marco is becoming blurry and hearing is like being underwater.

I madly dig in the pillows trying to find – yes! – and throw the damn paper weight at him and goddammit I know I miss because I can hear it crash through the window and land with an almost silent splash. “HOW DARE YOU TRY AND EXCUSE YOUR ACTIONS. YOU THINK A FUCKING APOLOGY IS GOING TO MAKE ME LIKE YOU, YOU FUCKING TWAT!?”

“Jean, listen I know I missed up but I-"

“MESSED UP!? OH YOU MESSED UP BY BEING BORN YOU PIECE OF TRASH!” he recoils so fucking hard it’s hilarious. And I laugh and laugh and laugh. On my knees, belly and head aching like Satan himself decided to give me a few good kicks I sob. “I have had _everything_ I hold dear in this life take from me, but at least I had my freedom. I don’t even have that anymore.” For some reason I find that so fucking hilarious. Like holy shit, I ran to be free, hopped the first ship out of town to be free. While fire licked my heels and tears blurred my vision.

How ironic that I’m actually pretty much the freest person, no family to tie me down, no lover to keep promises, no home to go back too; yet here I am, chained at the ankle ‘cause some pretty boy big shot Chinese pirate thinks I’m pretty.

“Jean?” aw, how cute, he’s worried.

“Get the fuck out of my sight. If you so much look my way, I’ll do everything in my power to kill you.” Every word is a growl from deep within the remnants of a rotten chest. He looks scared. Good. How does that taste dear?

He backs away like he’s faced with a particularly angry tiger. “I’ll get Levi to re-dress your head.”

My throat is sore from all that screaming. I’m surprised no one had come to investigate all the noise. Especially with the window now broken. I won’t really kill him, maybe maim, but not kill.

Everything is just one giant overreaction when I think about it.

Maybe if I had just straight up asked Marco and demanded answers in a calm way, I wouldn’t be so scared and hurt. Maybe I’m just not truly over the injustice those two years and some months have done to me. Maybe I’m just taking everything I’ve bottled up since I saw when maman wasn’t fast enough to cover it up, and finally shattering the bottle – slicing and cutting those in the blast range. Maybe when I pretended to just be okay with leaving a place I’ve lived my entire life to voyage across the unknown oceans to see what I could find, that I had given up on being truly happy.

The fact that I haven’t hardly seen any of my friends since aboard this hunk of junk (Eren just once) has me sinking further into despair. I wish I knew the state of my country. I wish I knew where Doctor Jaeger disappeared too. I don’t think he disappeared. I think he got it too, and didn’t – couldn’t, wouldn’t – bring it back to his children. I know Eren convinced Armin to leave his dying grandfather. I know Armin cried clutching the ratty straw hat to his chest when we climbed aboard.

Everything hurts so fucking much right now – wait, it never stopped hurting. It has always hurt, I’ve just gotten pretty good at pretending it’s doesn’t.

I sit back down carefully, the room is spinning and rocking and I can feel a bout of sickness settle inside. We must be leaving the harbor if we’re rocking this much. There’s no point in trying to escape now, I can swim, but not that far. Besides, I need to work on getting this stupid cuff off. I didn’t see any quill when Marco picked up the mess… I don’t know what to do.

The drying blood itches so I unravel the bandage and gently dab at the wound and scrape off the blood off my neck. I’m thirsty as fuck and I just want a bath and clean clothes. Better yet I want to go out on deck and breathe in the salty spray and stupid shit like that. Can’t do that now, now that Marco no longer trusts me.

Levi enters, no Eren though, too bad I actually want to see his stupid face. Wonder how Armin is doing. We were all pretty afraid his leg wouldn’t heal properly, but it he looked okay when he was carried aboard the other day. Fuck, wish this banging would go away.

“Sit up brat.” Levi stands above me not looking too happy. I squint at him, trying to get him into focus. Slowly I sit up on the edge of the pit, he drops the bucket making the loud bang echo in my skull painfully. He doesn’t seem to care. Asshole.

“Never seen my captain so distressed before.” He tries to make conversation, but I can’t seem to hear what he’s saying. _“Are you listening impudent brat?”_ the French gives me a start. I nod, but the action is cut off by him turning my head so he can look at my face. He just stares and stares and I’m getting really creeped out. Leaning away has no effect on his staring. He doesn’t even blink. What the fuck? You an owl or something? Great. Another creepy guy I’ve got to deal with.

He blinks and the spell is broken. He dabs my head with that vile iodine shit and wraps my head much more gently than he did… last night? Shit, it was just last night. Goddamn.

 _“You are not really mad at Marco are you? No, no you are, but that anger is rooted to something else. Is it not?”_ Levi fastens the hook thing to the cloth so it stays put. His voice is soft. It doesn’t fit his hard face.

 _“When was the last time you were in Europe? Have you heard the state of those waters?”_ my voice croaks out. _“France is in peril. Germany has shut down. England has closed its boarder to everyone, even their own people. I don't know what the Americans are doing. Italy has already fallen.”_ Levi stiffens _. “If things haven't reached this far out yet, someone is doing a very good job at keeping it quiet.”_

 _“If even one person in the village has the disease, they burn it to the ground. Everything. From babies to dogs. The people on board Captain Hanne’s ship where the only one’s able to escape Trost. Didn’t you wonder why so many rich people were on that ship? Me, Eren and Armin only got on because Hanne’s is an old family friend of Eren’s, he hid us on as sailors.”_ I finish. Awful memories are starting to resurface. I no longer have those nightmares, but what I had to do still terrorize me. _“I’m sorry maman, I know you said too. I didn’t want to do it though.”_ I begin to cry again.

“What desease?” Levi grabs my shoulders shaking them slightly. He looks slightly frantic. “What did you do?”

“What I had too.” It’s a whisper. Like a little ghost girl. I think Levi realizes he won’t get anything out of me anymore. I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Not ever. He lays me down and throws a blanket over me. “Ask Eren. I told him everything.” I tell Levi as he gathers his things. “His father was a doctor. He’ll know more about it.”

Levi surveys me. Eyes flicker over my curled form in worry. “I’ll do that.” He turns and leaves. I notice the lock doesn’t click. Doesn’t matter anymore does it? We’re in open water by now probably, and I’m chained to the floor. Where can I possibly go but within my own mind?

* * *

 

I fall asleep sometime later, gazing out the window watching as the sky go from a midnight blue to black. Must have been around nine then, I’m not sure, these tropical waters confuse me.

I’m in that part of sleep, where you’re asleep, but aware of everything around you. I hate those so fucking much. Like hello? Yes, I ordered sleep, not half consciousness. Anyway, I hear the door slowly creak open. A breath of what might be relief, and slow, soft padded footsteps coming toward me. I think who ever came into the room goes toward the table. There’s a clink of something being set down. Oh. It must be a food tray. That girl must have brought it in. Strange thing is, is that there’s no leaving footsteps. I think I may have fallen back to sleep then.

That part of sleep didn’t leave, the person just hadn’t made any noise till now. It’s the rustling of cloth. It’s very close to me and the pillows dip as whoever is near me climbs into the pillow pit. They’re slow about it, pausing at every too fast movement. Then suddenly alarm bells start going off in my head. He’s climbing into bed with you, you idiot! Wake up! But I can’t. I’m completely helpless as a calloused hands caresses my face and gently run fingers through my hair. A deep sigh.

I think I grumble as he lifts me and places my head on his shoulder, my pants kind of slip down, I can feel myself internally panic. “Oops, sorry.” Those hands pull them back up. What are you doing? Go away. Leave me alone. I’m trying to sleep. Finally he sits me up properly so that I’m leaning onto his side, head on shoulder. I can feel his chin on my head. “Jean, time to eat…pet.” He seems very reluctant to say pet. Good.

Why can I open my eyes now? What the hell? Tch. Been asking myself that a lot lately.

It’s Marco I see, well more his neck. There’s like 2 freckles right there, it might just be one though, I’ve got double vision. Fucking hell. What did that short bastard do to me? The table is on our laps. The food is less exotic this time around. There’s still rice though, but there’s also chicken. It looks like chicken anyway.

“Come on, open your mouth. I told Levi not to give you anything, but I’m afraid he did.” Why am I so obedient all of the sudden? I just pop my mouth open and that bastard takes his shitty sticks and feeds me some of that bird. It’s crispy, kind of greasy. Duck. Holy shit. I haven’t had duck in so long. Not since before dad- let’s not go there now.

I chew and swallow, god I’m thirsty. Marco seems to notice my difficulty in swallowing, so he leans over and pours some tea. “It’s black tea. You should have seen Levi’s face when we found a whole crate of it. He hissed at me when I suggested to sell it.” The tea is good. Not really to my taste, but I can’t really find it in myself to protest.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

“I take care of my things.” I feel a flare of righteous anger in my chest. The determined glint in those brown eyes snuffs out the flame though.

Captain Marco doesn’t like letting things go it seems. Goddammit.

Whatever. I’m tired. There’s nothing I can do right now.

“I’m not-” I’m cut off by Marco shoving more duck into my mouth. Wow. Rude. Listen here you little shit. Anytime I try to speak, he just shoves more food in me. The fucker is lucky I’m starving and the food is to die for.

He giggles. “Told you Sasha is a great cook!” he eats some himself. Making satisfied moans of pleasure as he eats. Lewd.

I fall back into that doze and Marco puts the table up and wiggles us down so we’re semi laying down. Kind of hard with all these pillows. Makes the bed lumpy in a comfortable way. If that makes any sense. He’s petting my head like some prized pony, cooing at its strangeness. I would be fighting down (very manly) blushing if I weren’t so out of it.

Before I truly succumb to the darkness that is dreamless sleep Marco whispers to me, “I have a present for you.”

I hope it’s a kitten. Naw I’m just kidding. I really hope it’s my head not hurting anymore. This is getting ridiculous.

I can feel lips on my forehead.

Gross.


	6. Who Is She?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuun~
> 
> also some bullshit back story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any way I promised a reader I'll type this chapter today, about 10 minutes late, but I was kinda busy stuffing my face.

The mess hall is empty save Armin reading at one of the benches and Eren mopping the floor. Eren occasionally mutters something in German, sounds like curse words to me. Armin looks up from his book.

“Evening.” he says. So polite. Eren peeks over his shoulder at me then goes back to viciously scrubbing the floor.

“Levi punishing you?” I try to say it as light hearted as I can, but it comes out strained.

“Yeah. Spilled tea all over.” Eren answers. Ah. That explains it. Armin gives me a look I can’t quite explain.

I’ve been curious about Eren’s relationship to Levi. He’s been particularly close to him since coming aboard. Speaking of the devil, Levi stomps in, inspects how Eren is doing and sits at the table.

“Levi-” God dang my voice. I clear my throat hoping it won’t sound so broken. “Levi, can you go and see to Jean? He’s- he’s not very happy with me at the moment.” He eyes me in deep suspicion, but stands and goes. I take his place at the table.

“Jean throwing a fit?” Armin asks turning a page.

“A bit. I may… have scared him a little.” It hurts to admit it, I haven’t done that to another person in so long. I forget how much that part of me frightens people.

“Trust me, Jean isn’t going anywhere.” Eren pipes up.

“How can you be sure?” I ask. He looked damn ready to jump to his death earlier.

“Jean isn’t stupid, don’t let his horse face fool you. He hasn’t anywhere to go. He has no destination. I am only in these seas because of Mikasa, she’s – and Armin – are the only family I have left. Jean, Jean doesn’t have that. He knows the best thing for him is to stay put and makes the best of the situation.”

“But. He’s so- he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Eren leans on the mop and gives him a look that says ‘seriously?’ “He screamed and attacked me.”

Eren sighs and abandons the mop. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Jean is carrying some serious baggage he hasn’t gotten over yet. He’s just taking out all his fear and anger on you. He hasn’t truly had the chance since his father caught the sickness.”

“Sickness? What sickness?” Armin and Eren slide their eyes to each other. They looked surprised. Seriously, what sickness? I’d heard some of the hostages speak about it, but I hadn’t been curious enough to investigate. I was thinking they were worried about catching it in the brig.

“Someone is doing a very good job making sure no one knows.” Armin adjusts his falling crutches. “I’ve been curious as to why it hasn’t spread this far too.”

“Huh?”

“About five years ago, my father came home in a panic. He didn’t tell me anything, but told us not to touch or go near anyone with red and purple sores on their bodies. My mom had nearly fainted at the information.” Eren looks down at the table, hands in lap. “Mind you, my mother isn’t a person to just faint. She’s amputated limbs and helped gut cattle. She was a strong woman.”

“Shinganshina, a little town in Germany, is where we’re from originally. The disease hit there first and hard. No one knows where it came from or how it started or who patient zero was, but it spread fast. Through the air, by touching infected people, contaminated water.” Eren’s hands clutch into fists. “In panic people began boarding people in their homes. And when that didn't work, they burned houses containing the diseased, regardless of who was in it. My mom had caught the disease and my dad- he- he killed her.”

“Eren…” Armin reaches over and rubs his arm.

I’m in awe. I have not heard anything of this sort from foreigners. No wonder there are so many whites in these seas lately. Levi jogs in and grabs Eren’s arm harshly, forcing the boy to nearly stand.

“What is happening in Europe!? What did Jean do!?” Eren’s eyes widen.

“He- sit down Levi we were just telling Marco.” Eren sits down, Levi follows sitting across from him and next to Armin.

“This disease mutates people. Sometimes their arm will just get really long, or their faces will start to look more toad-like. Other’s skin falls off, or they grow extra spine or ribs. It’s disgusting and extremely painful. Death takes months or weeks depending on age and health.” Armin looks a bit green. “The first signs are red and purple boils and sores. Like blisters. They’re supposedly painful. They usually gather near sweat glands, so armpits, genitals, the back of the knees, basically anywhere there’s excessive sweat.”

“What about your mother Eren?” I ask. His eyes water a little bit.

“Mom didn’t hide it from me, she took me and Mikasa aside and said that her and dad arranged for her to die quickly and painlessly. I had never cried so hard in my life, I couldn’t even touch my own mother anymore. We had to wear a scarf around our faces at all times, wear gloves no matter how hot it was.” Eren shrugs. “Dad gave mom an overdose on some sort of medicine that makes you sleep. He set the house on fire and we ran to Trost.”

“That’s basically it.” Armin says taking over. “My grandpa caught the sickness about a few years into living in Trost. We hadn’t known the sickness reached so far to France till we met Jean and said his father had just died of it.” He carefully shuts the book he was reading. “Full blown panic happened faster in Trost than anywhere else, people weren’t even trying to find a cure, and they just burned everything.”

I sit there staring at my hands. Disease is very common in Europe. I know that, but this sickness… I have never heard of it before. Why hasn’t the east caught it? Someone is working very hard to keep it from spreading.

“What did Jean do?” Levi asks again. It’s softer this time, and I remember Levi mentioning having some family in Italy.

"I'm not really sure if I should tell you, it's not really my place to-" Eren says.

"Jean said to ask you." Levi interrupts.

“oh. Well, he hid the fact his mother was sick. I helped too, I warned Jean not to leave the house in case he had caught it too, but he was extremely careful. Jean is smart, he took every precaution, but somehow, someone found out Mrs. Kirschtien was sick and they set the place on fire. Me and Armin at the time, were packing what little we had, Armin’s grandfather had begged us to leave the country. Jean came running to us and we boarded Hannes’ ship.” Eren is picking the splinters in the wood. “Jean admitted to killing his mother.”

A cold rush goes over me. Oh my god. Jean. How could you?

“Don’t think any less of Jean, Marco.” Armin whispers. “He did what he had to. They found out, Jean’s mother was going to die anyway. What’s a few less days to someone in constant pain? She probably welcomed it.”

I-I don’t know what to think. Jean doesn’t seem like a person capable of murder. That. That’s just insane. But, Jean, he’s so torn up about it. He didn’t want to do it.

A memory suddenly crosses my mind. “Levi. A month ago, we sailed close to the Cape of Good Hope, there were ships on fire. We turned back assuming Navy, or other pirates. It wasn’t. Was it?” Missing pieces of puzzles I hadn’t thought twice about before are coming together. _Even if a single person in the area is infected, they all burn_. It makes sense, the burning ships, the silence.

“Smith. I bet it’s Erwin Smith. He’ll do anything for the sake of humanity.” Levi scowls crossing his arms. “Guess we should be grateful. The disease isn’t spreading past Europe.”

Who is Erwin Smith? And how and why does Levi know him?

“I get how they’re stopping the spread of the disease through sea fairing, but what of land?” Eren asks. He’s a lot smarter than he looks I give him that. “How are they covering all that land? Hannes’ ship was never stopped and searched, we slipped by. There has to be more.”

“You’re right.” Levi stands. “We’ll just have to be extra careful the next ship we plunder.” He leaves the room. Armin gets up as well, struggling with his crutches while Eren continues his furious scrubbing.

“Just give Jean time. You throw him off, when he yells at people he expects them to yell back. You don’t do that. It throws him off.” Eren turns his body toward me. “Trust me. Horse face is stubborn, if you want anything from him, you’ll have to be patient. He likes pretty things by the way.” he adds as an after thought.

“Pretty things? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, people. Things. Flowers. I don’t know, he appreciates beauty I guess.” Eren tries. “He likes the outdoors, I’ve seen him draw- he doesn’t like people knowing that though. He use to draw Mikasa constantly, creepy if you ask me.”

“Wait, if he knows Mikasa, how come he didn’t recognize her?” this is new. Wait. If Jean knew Mikasa, how did Mikasa end up on my ship? What the heck is going on?

“She heard some relative of hers were still alive somewhere in Japan, she wanted to find out, so she left ahead of us.” Eren stretches and yawns. “And Mikasa does look different. She cut her hair, she’s tanner, she’s got boobs. I’m going to bed.”

I wonder who that relative of hers is. Aw well, not my problem.

Oh no! I haven’t eaten dinner, neither has Jean. Aw man, I’m never gonna hear the end of it. I sneak into the kitchens, I know, ‘Gosh Marco, sneaking around on your own ship.’ But Sasha can get scary if her sanctuary is disturbed.

“Marco.” Speak of the devil and she appears.

“Hi. Sasha. Just came for dinner.” Her cow brown eyes narrow and thrusts a tray in my hands. She set food aside for me, how sweet.

“Disturb my sleep will you! Humph.” She spins around and stomps back to her bed, I could have sworn I saw Connie sneak out that port window, never mind that she didn't even look like she was sleeping. Weird.

Jean is out like a light when I sneak back into my room. He hardly puts up a fuss when I join him in bed and feed him. He’s so cute! Like a grouchy kitten. That reminds me, hope Connie’s been taking care of them, I’ve completely forgotten about them till know. I pet Jean gently, he grumbles trying to bat me away, but I won’t let him.

“I have a present for you.” I think he’ll love that kitten.

* * *

 

Morning comes with a seagull pillaging what was left of last nights’ dinner. What the heck? Oh. Oh, right Jean threw that thing and broke my window. Explains why it’s so darn cold in here. Eh, I’ll deal with the bird later, he isn’t harming anyone. I watch with heavy eyes as the bird tears into left of the duck and knocks over a half empty bowl of rice.

Jean is sleeping deeply, face pressed into my back. It’s nice. I haven’t slept so close to someone in so long.

Okay, time to get rid of this pest before it creates a bigger mess.

I dress and wash, keeping an eye on both Jean and the gull, neither pay me any mind as one continues to chow and the other sleep. I throw the window (what’s left of it) open and rush the squawking bird out. It’s a lot easier than I anticipated and I’m thankful for it. Jean had woken with a start when the bird smacked him with its wings.

“What the fuck?” he sits up looking around in confusion.

“Nothing pet. Just a bird snuck in.” I close the window again, I’ll have to have someone come in and fix this. I tie an old piece of cloth across the opening for now and draw the curtains. It’s the best that can be done right now.

He mumbles something in his tongue, probably cursing me to the depths of hell. No matter, I am a patient man. Glass is swept up and so is dinner. It takes longer than it should to clean up my room, all the while Jean watches me with the eyes of a hawk. His eyes definitely play the part, with their sharpness and color. He doesn’t flinch as I get close to him, that’s good. It’s a start.

I leave without a word to check on my babies. They’re so happy to see me, all high pitched mewls and cries. Oh they’re so cuuuute! Feeding them is a chore because they make such a mess, I have to bathe them again, but they seem fond of the sweet smelling water. I gather them into a padded basket and call Levi and Sasha to my cabin.

Humming and setting the basket on my bed, I see the money packet peeking out from the blankets, oops, better put that away.

“What the hell do you have?” Jean demands. He’s sitting up, papers are back on the floor and Jean is reading one of the papers. Rude. I just cleaned that up.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise. You haven’t been very good but-” Jean snorts, “but I think you’ll like this present.” He perks up, interested but not appeased. Sasha trots in with food and Levi.

“You called Captain my Captain?” she sings. Levi looks as if he’s going to hit her.

“Yes, I wanted to address the rat problem!” they both look my way.

“Oh? Finally addressing something I’ve been saying since the beginning.” Levi cocks a hip, Sasha places the tray down and tries to peek into the basket.

“Yes.” I throw back the blanket covering the basket revealing not very happy kittens. They mewl and almost seem to scowl at their interrupted nap.

“KITTENS!” Sasha squeals.

“One for you.” I give Levi the black and white one, “One for you.” The black, brown, and grey striped one to Sasha. “Aaaand one for you.” I hand Jean the last kitten. Tawny of both fur and eyes. It looks just like Jean. Okay, he doesn’t but close enough.

“The fuck am I supposed to do with a damn cat?” he looks at the kitten in disgust.

“…Do you not like kittens?” who doesn’t like cats? Even Levi is holding his new cat with some sort of affection. Oh no, did I do something wrong again? Is he allergic? I’m sorry I didn’t know.

The little cat wiggles out of my grasp and drops with a _fwump_ onto the pillows. Jean’s lips twitch, he’s trying hard not to smile at the little kitten struggling to stand up right. Oh good. My pet is only being stubborn.

“He is yours, pet.” I address him directly, he throws some more curses at me and turns around, ignoring both me and the cat.

“I would have liked an adult cat, but this one will do.” Levi steps out, I have noticed he’s rather fond of animals. Sasha it squealing and squishing hers, the kitten is trying his best to escape.

“You’re going to be such a good mouser. Yes you are. Oh yes you are! Eat you breakfast.” She demands before she too leaves.

“I will be eating with my crew tonight. Name your pet, pet.” He does another crud gesture. So rude.

“Eat shit.” Maybe I should take up spanking him. I know it worked on me, mother was very harsh on using such vulgar language. I can still feel that bamboo switch to this day. I shudder in memory and leave for the mess hall with my food.

Today is so beautiful. There’s fluffy white clouds drifting over sapphire sky. Huh. What a lame way to describe a perfect day. I stand leaning on the helm. Thomas is back in his nest where he belongs, he doesn’t care for navigation. Armin has proven to be very good, even calculating new routes that could possibly make our journey faster. Eren is sitting on the rail fishing, he looks awfully bored.

“Levi kicked him outside. Kept bothering him.” Armin sits in a chair set out for him, his cast off now that he’s healed enough. He still needs a cane to get around still, but he’s healing fine. I’m not really sure how long it takes for a bone to heal, I’ve never broken a leg bone before.

“What is his relationship with Levi?”

he shrugs, “He reminds me a lot like Grisha. Eren’s father. Passive, but caring. Sometimes Eren’s father would seem cold and heartless, but when you’ve been a doctor for as long as he has, you start to feel less sympathy for people.” Armin says rolling up the map he was looking at.

“I fail to see how this relates- oh, Eren sees his father in Levi? That’s a bit weird.” I never thought of Levi as a father figure. He’s more of an obscure third cousin of my deranged uncle or something. Picturing him as a father to anyone is strange.

“No, I’m just saying Eren respects him. He has a habit of bothering people who he wants to notice him.”

“What day is it?” I have a tribute due soon, I have plenty of money of course, I just don’t like being unprepared.

“I’ve lost count.” Armin says. He looks like he’s thinking, I leave him to it. I have a calendar I’ve been faithful in crossing off dates on, I’ll go look at it when I have lunch with Jean. Maybe if he’s good I’ll give him a bath.

There’s a ship in the distance, I take my spyglass out, but by the time I’m able to look up again it’s gone. Crap. It’s her. I know it is. Alright, lunch is coming early for me and so is that bath.

“Thomas! You saw her too right?” I yell up at Thomas, he’s dangerously close to the edge, leaning over to get a better look.

“I’ll keep you posted Marco!” Thomas shouts back. I nod, Connie jumps from the lines and takes my place at the helm. “Keep our course to Jakarta, keep an eye on her too.” I’m weary, it can’t be tribute day already can it?

“Who is she?” Armin asks just as weary as me.

“Um… the queen… of pirates I guess you can say. She’s more like... an empress. I pay tribute to her and she doesn’t sink me.” I hastily explain practically galloping down toward my room. _“Clean everything! Get your bums in gear! Get the heck up! Hurry our lady is coming soon!”_ It’s amazing how fast my crew leaps into action.

I pause at my door, hearing muffled giggles and short French phrases. Is Jean speaking to that cat in French? Oh my gosh, that little turd is going to make it so the cat only understands him! That little butthead! Ugh, whatever I don’t have time for that. I burst in and he jumps about a foot.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he’s clutching his head. The little one snuggled into his chest. Awe, if only- no Marco; bath, food, get ready now.

“Jean get up! We need to bather, now, she’s coming!” I toss his cat on my bed and quickly unlock his chain.

“H-hey! Careful! What- goddammit, what!? Marco!” I’m pulling him up and he’s not helping with all this fighting. He finally rips free with my name on his lips. “Who is ‘she’?”

“The Empress.” I say, he looks at me like I just ate a bug.

“Who?” he rubs his ankle a little, I notice it’s bright red. Jean eyes the bed where I had thrown his cat. The little tike is clumsily trying to jump down. He falls and bounds over to us with a very loud meow that can be translated to ‘Listen here you piece of shit human. First of all how dare you.’ Yep. Definitely Jean’s cat, and he hasn’t even spent a whole day with him.

“Okay, but why do we have to take a bath. Who is this empress?” I can see Jean is trying really hard to be diplomatic.

Okay, calm down Marco, she’ll only be here for the money and some news, and she’ll leave. Just like always. “She is not very fond of men. Most her crew are female r devoted men. I should also mention she fancies woman. You need to be on your best behavior, she’s killed one of my pets before. All he said was she looked like a dike. What even is a dike?” Jean goes pale, err- paler. “The more presentable we are the better mood she’ll be in.”

I grab his wrist, and this time there’s no resistance as we leave. I shut and lock the door after Jean gently scoots the kitten back inside. “Who is this amazing empress anyway?” he asks an eye roll in his tone. He keeps trying to tug out of my grip, but I won’t let him.

“She goes by Ymir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and Ymir joins the story. kind of, not till next chapter. Ymir is modeled off the famous female Chinese pirate during the age of sail. She was kick ass and amazing. Ymir deserves her title.
> 
> also I really hate how this fandom just brushes off the fact that Jean is an artist in canon. it's always Eren and Eren as far as we know cant draw for shit. also they always make Jean's parents as evil people when Jean's mom is the sweetest kindest person ever and from the tiny but we saw of his father it was more like 'whatever son, don't get killed'. They also hate on Grisha, and I can't stand that. Grisha was a good guy and a loving husband and father. fucking read the manga people. 
> 
> end rant.


	7. The Empress and Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir.
> 
> Bullshit backstory again!
> 
> Ymir's orders!
> 
> Jean is getting soft!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People love this story so much omg. I love to hear what you guys have got to say! visit me on tumblr! [I'm menstralcycling].
> 
> kisses you all. so much love!

Ymir?

The fuck kind of name is that?

Dammit Marco let go, just- I can walk by myself. Dang it just- ugh whatever. He’s frantic, shouting orders at people scrubbing floors like the Queen is coming aboard. Even Reiner looks a little weary. We burst out and suddenly for the first time in a long time I’m out side. Oh god salty air how I’ve missed you.

I see Armin in a chair by the helm a look of severe disgruntlement on his face as people bump into him repeatedly. I try to wave, but Marco yanks me down another set of stairs. There’s Chinese shouted from everywhere, I’m pretty sure we just passed the female baths ‘cause there’s an awful lot of men trying to peek in. Marco barks at them red-faced, pulling out a stick from nowhere and beating them as they run for cover.

This ship is in a state of madness and it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Grown ass men getting beat with a stick by a guy hardly out of his teens (I wonder how old he really is?) and nearly half their size. People are just scurrying around like cockroaches to light.

Bertholdt, Eren and Levi emerge from a room that has steam coming out of it. Isn’t that bad for a ship? I mean won’t it rot faster? All three of them look extremely dwarfed by Bertholdt, he’s shyly holding on to the towel hanging from his hips. Okay, I’m not going to lie, he looks damn good. Like damn. Another yank from Marco and he shoves me into the water logged room.

“Undress, pick a tub and scrub!” he orders me yanking his own jacket and boots off. “Don’t worry about the clothes, Levi will pick them up later.”

I back away from him and pick a small tub, made of porcelain, it’s far away from him and with all this steam in the air I think I can undress and wash without him staring at me. That is until I realize I don’t fucking know how to undo this shirt. I’ve changed my mind, I hate this shirt. It’s too tight for me to just slip it off, and I can’t figure out the-

“Here. Let me.” He startles the shit out of me coming up from behind and turning me to face him. I look at a fixed point over his shoulder, trying to ignore that a buck ass naked man is undressing me because I can’t figure out how to take off my own damn clothes. When he’s done, he pats my chest like a wife does to her husband after fixing his tie. Please don’t do that. “Hurry. I don’t know when she’ll decide to make a visit.”

Marco hops in a wooden tub that could easily fit three people. He beckons me in, no. No I don’t think so. The last time I bathed with another man I was five and it was my father. No. That’s a line I don’t cross. Not sorry.

I turn away from him and shimmy out of the rest of my clothes and slide into the luke-warm water of my chosen tub. A sneaky glance his way reveals a childish pout. It’s quickly washed away as he scrubs his hair though. Oh shit yeah, bath. He’s lucky I’ve been wanting one, ‘cause I’d definitely would have out up one hell of a fight otherwise.

I’ve already finished most my washing when Marco finishes and disappears for moment, only to reappear mostly dry and another towel in his hands. Against much protesting and most the water sloshing over I… let Marco wash my hair and back. I hate you so fucking much.

He’s so careful about my head though (which still throbs thank you very much), there’s a slight dent that I’m hoping goes away, the skin there is squishy and sore. It’s getting better though, how long has it been? Three days? Two? Four? I don’t know. Time has seriously lost meaning lately.

“Okay, put this on, hurry please, she could be sailing right at us as we speak.” Marco throws a robe at me, I stand and quickly put it on, several other men are rushing in, picking random baths and scrubbing like their mothers are about to burst in and check.

This Ymir must be a pretty scary gal if she ignites this kind of reaction from a bunch of common sea thugs.

We pass Eren who’s looking rather proud in his brown dress. “Nice dress Jaeger!”

“It’s not a dress fucker! It’s a Chinese- oh never mind your puny brain wouldn’t comprehend anyway.” Eren is pink in face, his fists balled in rage. Armin hobbles next to Eren, a restraining hand on him, he’s wearing the same only a pastel blue. Okay, weird. Levi glares from around Eren, he’s nearly a head shorter than him. That’s fucking hilarious. He’s not wearing a dress, but something like Marco wore the other day, only long sleeved and black.

“Don’t be rude Jean.” Marco yanks me away, I’m sputtering.

He leads us back to his room. I’m still dripping, and while he’s digging through clothes I take the opportunity to properly dry.

By the time I’ve finished, Marco is dressing himself. It’s like a robe – sky blue with darker blue and silver trimming – till he wraps it around himself like twice before getting a belt thing of the same design of the trim and secures it around his middle. It’s just like what Eren’s wearing only there’s this thing that hangs down the front. The sleeves are ridiculously useless. So floppy. Why?

Marco dives back and pulls out something red and gold. It’s very pleasing to the eye, till Marco says I have to wear it.

“I am not wearing a dress!” excuse you, but do I look like a woman? Fuck that I’m not wearing that thing. However pretty it looks I’m not wearing it. It has that same floppy sleeve thing. God, why?

“Jean, it’s not a dress it’s called a hanfu. My people have been wearing them for centuries.” Marco sounds exasperated, I clutch the towel-robe.

“I don’t care what your people call a dress I’m not wearing it!” Marco pinches the bridge of his nose and seems to be praying in Chinese.

“Think of it as a really long shirt.” Marco steps closer.

“Absolutely not! Can I at least have pants?”

“You don’t wear pants with- Jean if you don’t put this on I’ll make you!” Marco makes a grab at me but I hop away. “It even has dragons on it! Come on Jean, don’t make me get Reiner!”

“I’ll put it one, if you let me have pants.”

“Oh my gods. Nǐ xiàng gè háizi.” Marco places the dress – or hanfu – whatever over the back of a chair and digs some more pulling out gold pants that match the trim and dragons. “Here. Quit being a baby.” He tosses them at me, watching with narrowed eyes and a downward turn of lips.

Creeper. I slip the stupid silk on from under the robe. Stepping cautiously toward him so he can help me put the stupid thing on, I don’t fucking know how to do it. It doesn’t wrap around as much as Marco’s did, but my sleeves are more floppy than his. Useless I tell you. The belt thing doesn’t have that weird hanging thing Marco has.

Okay. So the dress isn’t so bad.

“Perfect.” He claps his hands, eye glimmer with pride. Why. Why. Why.

Jesus Christ take me now, he’s looking at me like a proud mother duckling watching he babes swim for the first time. He snaps out of it and rushes over to lock the door.

Rude. I’m not going anywhere.

But that thought goes away as he digs under his bed for the money he hid there. Why is he getting money? Is it for this Ymir person? He said she was an Empress. Maybe he pays taxes? Wait. Pirates pay taxes?

“She taxes you?”

“Um… that’s one way of putting it. I give her a significant amount of money every three moon cycles (on the new moon) or so and she doesn’t sink me, or blow me out of the water.” Marco it dividing money, counting quietly. There’s two piles. One for her the other for himself and the crew (I guess, seems to be the logical assumption).

While he does that, I snoop around. Never had the chance before, his desk near his bed is covered in maps. The words, if you can call them that, are boxy. Must be Chinese. There’s plenty of English though, like a journal I just picked up. It seems to be a log book of some kind. Just ports he’s visited on what dates, how long he stayed, etc. I get bored and start opening drawers. There’s a skull of something in one. Why? Don’t people usually display that creepy shit?

“It’s a monkey if you’re wondering.” Marco says from over his shoulder, he’s gathering up the money and placing them in separate envelopes. “It’s not polite to snoop.” He doesn’t sound mad, or irritated. He just sounds like he doesn’t care.

“It’s not polite to kidnap people.” I try to open another drawer, but it’s either locked or stuck.

“Don’t bother with that one, it’s locked. I don’t have a key and I’ve never got around to trying to pry it open. No idea what’s in it.” Marco’s voice is by the clothes pile. He’s shoving things back in chests and closets.

Challenge accepted. I shall take on the mystery of the desk drawer. Unless he’s lying and he knows what’s in it. Doesn’t change my mind though, I don’t know what’s in it, and I must know. Okay, everything else is pretty much normal ship stuff. No ancient treasure maps or super-secret messages. Really boring. Unless that stuff is in that boxy word stuff. Then I’m shit out of luck.

Knocking has Marco muttering things in Chinese, maybe curse words, he looks busy and the knocking comes again. This time more frantic.

“Get the door please Jean.” Okay. Sure.

The door latch is a lot more complicated than it needs to be, so by the time I open it that girl is impatiently tapping her foot and holding several trays (another person, bald, dark skinned male holding more), Sasha I think her name is. She’s wearing a... hanfu? Yeah a hanfu that’s offensively green, styled much like Eren’s and has a more girlish cut to it. The man behind her is wearing the same as Levi only brown.

“Here Marco, food for you and our guests. I’m not good with Indian food, but Bertholdt was kind enough to help me.” Sasha, hurries out before Marco even turns around.

“Thank you!” Marco calls out, but she’s already gone. I wander back to that low table and help that other (super short) man put the stuff down.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her. We’ve caught sight of her scouting ships a few times. She’s definitely coming tonight.” The short guy leaves.

Meowing draws my attention back to my pillow pit. Little Filou scampering out of the pillows. He looks very angry at being shut in. “Oh, mon petit, je t'ai manqué?” I pick him up. _Awe, little one, did you miss me?_ He quiets his meows.

Marco scurries to the door, slipping on black slippers. “Stay put, please.” He rushes out.

I just shrug and go back to playing with Filou, occasionally sneaking some food. It’s really spicy. Good though. Marco rushes in again. Lights some incense and throws the packet of money at me. “Hide that please, only give it when I ask for it.”

“I’m not your guard dog!” I scream at him, god I wish I had something to throw at him.

“Yes you are!”

It takes several deep, calming breaths for me not to flip the fucking table. I shove the stupid packet in the stupid robe anyway. Mother fucker. I should kill him in his sleep.

“Ymir! Don’t be so mean, we’re two days early!” a very soft slightly high-pitched female voice drifts in through the open door a few minutes later. I turn to watch a goddess walk in with Marco and another woman right behind her. The second woman has dark skin like Bertholdt but freckles like Marco she’s wearing something weird and offensively colored. Like a skirt that’s also a shawl. And her... midriff is showing. Um?

What’s up with these Asians and just wrapping pretty cloth around them and calling it good? That blonde goddess looks like Aphrodite went on vacation to India. So beautiful in orange and pink. Man. I want to marry her.

“Jean.” Marco’s voice snaps me out of it.

“What?” I scowl at him.

The brown chick raises her brow and says something in Chinese I don’t catch ‘cause little Filou decides the dragon on my sleeve is the enemy. Marco answers, or responds or whatever. The trio lumber on toward me. Shit did I do something? No, they’re just sitting at the table. Okay good, don’t feel like getting my head bashed in again.

Marco sits next to me, the blonde in front of me, and the freckled chick across from Marco. Marco uses sticks, so I do too, while freckles #2 and the goddess use their hands. Gross. At least the sticks are cleaner. Shit this shit is spicy.

“Sasha is getting so much better Marco.” The blonde compliments, oh god take me now that smile is radiant.

“We have an Indian man by the name of Bertholdt who helped her. You can thank him.” Marco says after a sip of tea.

“I want to see Sasha and Mikasa again. I hear she has her family back? Is that true?” I can die to her voice. Holy shit.

“The German family that took her in when her parents were murdered? Heard that that kid stabbed her kidnappers to death.” The brown chick says, food pushed into her cheek like some over grown chipmunk. Her voice is crass, but I don’t know… sorta pleasing? And how would she know these things? “How is she? Ready to ditch your shitty crew and join a real pirate?”

Marco and Krista frown at her. Okay, I like this chick.

“You can ask her yourself. She won’t leave without Eren or Armin though. I know you’re not one for men, but I think you’ll like them. Eren reminds me of you.” Marco sips some more tea and goes back to his rice. I choke on my rice at that comment.

Eren like that chick? Oh my god that’s funny. I’m laughing now. All three of them are staring at me like I’ve lost it. Filou climbs in my lap pawing at some rice. “No, no way, Eren doesn’t have secrets motives like this lady. You can see it in her eyes; Eren will tell you straight up he’ll kill you, this woman? Naw, she seems like a snake in the bush kind of gal to me.”

Marco has the look of udder horrific panic on his face. My sides hurt too much to take notice that the two woman in front of me stop eating. It doesn’t occur to me that I may have said something really bad but when I do, I shut up instantly. No one pays mind to the tawny kitten knocking over the rice bowl because it’s not something he can eat. Asshole.

This chick eyes me hard. Gold eyes screw into my soul, I think I’m sweating. Oh shit.

“Who’s your new boy toy Marco?” she whips her head to him and his eyes are wide.

“His name is Jean Kirschtien, a Frenchman, I acquired him-” I snort and roll my eyes at this, she takes notice, there’s something that flickers in her eyes, don’t know if that’s good or bad though. Marco gives me a pleading glance and continues, “I acquired him not even a week ago. He was fleeing Europe – I need to speak to you about what’s going on out there too by the way – on board the _Passenger_.” He talks fast, his Chinese accent apparent as he does. I’m just now realizing he never had one till now.

Huh. The more you know.

“Please don’t hurt him Ymir! I just got him!” Marco pleads when Ymir goes back to staring at me. I stare back, I’m so sick of all these creepy fucking fuck twits just staring at me. I really don’t look that different. You want different? Look at doll face Armin, or the albino gorilla.

“The fuck you looking at?” I can feel my heart constrict as she snarls at me.

“Same to you heathen.” Oh. My. God. Did I just call a women who could possibly slice my head off a heathen? What right do I have to even say that word? I’m not even religious!

She laughs. “Awe man Marco keep this one. I like him!” the blonde sighs in relief, her tiny shoulders slump in relief. Okay, besides the fact that Ymir is a total bitch, I like her.

“To answer your question from earlier, yes Mikasa has her family back. She seems very happy now.” Marco smiles like he wasn’t just begging for my life. ‘I just got him!’ fucker.

“About that Europe thing. I think I know what you want to talk about.” Ymir slurps up some noodles. Okay, I don’t really care for manners, but come on.

“Yes, I’ve heard some disturbing news. I can have Eren come down and tell you, Jean says his father was a doctor and would know more about that.” Marco slurps some noodles too. Marco, man, come one, not you too. And when did I tell you- I told Levi, that’s right.

“Sure whatever, first thing, money Marco.” She makes a gimme gesture.

Marco elbows me and I nearly drop my bowl of food. Still no one takes notice of Filou scarfing down some unattended pork. “Goddammit, what?”

“The money Jean.”

“What mon- Oh right.” I set the bowl down and rummage around my chest till I find it and toss it at Ymir.

“Trusting your pet with money already dear? Aren’t you afraid he’ll run off with it?” Ymir teases.

“We’re in the middle of the goddamn ocean, where the fuck would I go?” I snarl.

“Smart man. So rare these days.” She sighs raising her glass in mock salute.

I ignore them, they seem to realize this and begin to speak Chinese. They keep glancing my way, how rude. Goddamn, can’t a man eat in peace? Filou has decided the spilled rice are perfect play pals, he’s covered in sticky white stuff and I’m not looking forward to cleaning up that mess.

The goddess leaves with the now empty trays and I retreat to my nest after cleaning up the damn cat. I don’t miss Marco’s smirk and ‘aha!’ look in his eye. Okay, so I took a liking to the fucking cat. Sue me. God what does Sasha put in that food to make it so- so sleep inducing? Fuck I’m tired.

Both pirates fall silent and wait for the return of the goddess. Not five minutes go by before she returns with- oh great there’s Jaeger, Armin limping his way in, Bertholdt, and Mi- oh I think I’m in love. Again. Mikasa is in something like a black Hanfu, but the sleeves reach the floor – they also have pink flowers stitched into them, and the silly belt thing, like three of them and a string? That cinches right under her rather large breasts. Has she always had such big boobs? Her hair is done up elaborately and I have to admit that scarf kinda ruins the whole outfit though. Mikasa you goddess. I want her to step on me. Oh my- wait… step on me? Where did that come from?

Any trace of sleep is gone. Eren glares daggers at me for eyeing his… sister? Does he consider her that? Cousin? She called the Dr. Jaeger uncle. Eren helps Armin sit down, the table is getting pretty crowded. Bertholdt sits toward the side, away from Ymir and Marco, closer to me. He looks sweaty and uncomfortable. Why is he here?

“Krista, come sit here.” Ymir pats her lap but Krista – finally have a name for her. I prefer goddess – just sits as close to her as possible without actually sitting in her lap. Eren takes my old spot with Armin beside him, and Mikasa across from them.

I’m dreading the next conversation, I don’t want to talk about what’s happening back home. I’m scared. But I guess pirates need to know that sort of thing, in case one of their own catches it, or they plunder a plague ship. I want to leave, but I don’t trust anyone on this boat. I’m afraid to wander on my own.

Marco gives me some weary eye, I just stare blankly. I don’t like this. Eren gives me a frowning look. I know he hates the plague, but it’s not something you can attack like a person or animal, it’s not something you can swear vengeance on. You can only pray to whatever god may listen that it goes away. Dies out like the Black Death.

“I know it’s hard to retell what’s going on, but can you tell us what’s going on in your home countries? You too Jean.” Krista says, her smile sweet and kind. Suddenly, she’s not a goddess anymore. She’s a fallen angel from the Christian bible. Evil.

“Aller te faire foutre.” _Go fuck yourself._ I croak and burrow in all these blankets. I know both Eren and Armin know what I said. Eren can’t speak it to save his life, but it doesn’t mean he can’t understand it. I hate that look of sympathy they both have. Go fuck a youself, the both of you.

“What did he say?” Krista asks.

“That he’d rather not. He lost his family.” Eren answers. His ear tips are red. Only Mikasa takes notice. She doesn’t say anything, because it’s not really a lie. I don’t want to talk about it. And I did lose my family.

Marco frowns and I turn away from them. Filou climbs into my cocoon of self-loathing and falls asleep almost instantly. I know Marco will try and get me to retell my account. I don’t want to.

I have a feeling I will though.

* * *

 

I’m numb, trying my best to ignore what the pirates are discussing. Still some things filter through my bubble of wishful ignorance. Eren is telling them every symptom and sign of the disease. What it does, who dies faster, how long is takes on average. You know bull shit doctor stuff. I hear the scrape of quill on parchment, so someone is recording everything.

Mikasa goes to tell that she had left before her uncle had disappeared, he had encouraged her to leave when she had heard she had living relatives in Japan. So that’s where she disappeared to. Eren wouldn’t tell me. She believes he was only trying to protect his child. How sweet, Dr. Jaeger did have deep affection for Mikasa.

I remember meeting the Shinganshina trio. We were like ten, maybe eleven. On further thought, we were twelve. They moved to Trost in a hurry. No mother and a father constantly out and trying to find a cure for this plague. Trost didn’t have the plague till nearly two years after their arrival. One or two people would die, but it was brushed off as nothing. When we were like seventeen people started dying in masses. Then it went away mysteriously. Eren began traveling with his dad, coming back home a little shakier than before. Then my dad got it. Then my mom. Trost burned. Then we left.

Armin explains his grandfather died faster because of his old age. Bertholdt stays quiet till Krista asks him in her soft sweet voice to tell us, “How do you come to sit before us?”

“Mother died almost two years ago, an accident. I left India to tell my birth father who lived in Germany. I left shortly after that. But, the entire time I was there, there wasn’t any sign of sickness; the streets were empty. The charred remains of buildings made me curious, but I assumed a fire broke out. People kept their shutters closed and doors locked, but that’s not that abnormal.” Bertholdt concludes. “I didn’t know there even was a disease, I thought maybe pirates or an accident had ravaged the town. Not till my step mother told me about it and told me to keep away from Europe.”

“About those burning ships though.” Marco whispers. “I’ve seen them, but stayed clear. I believed them to be pirates attacked by authorities. They must be plague ships. But Eren informs me not all ships have been searched. The _Passenger_ slipped passed the searching.” Marco continues. No please don’t I don’t want to hear it. “It worries me, we are lucky the _Passenger_ did not have any plague victims, but healthy rich people and crew.”

“I have noticed these too and have given orders not to touch them.” Ymir adds. “I don’t like it, but I think until this disease blows over, we stay within our waters. Burn any ship with even one spot.” The last words are on order, I hate it. But I know it’s what you have to do.

“I have noticed that not even the sharks will eat some of the bodies that float away from the burning ships.” Krista’s voice is far away.

“Well, that’s just more incentive not to touch anything from a burning ship.” Mikasa agrees.

“With that being said Ymir, you have to lower your tax. If those, like me, have to pay tribute to you and can’t leave these waters, money will be slim.” Marco asks. It’s reasonable. A successful pirate moves constantly to keep the navy at bay, and to not scare away the prey too much. “With limited hunting grounds, we’ll have limited prey.” Marco continues.

“He has a point Ymir. Marco pays us nearly ten thousand. We’ll have to lower it.” Krista says, I’m starting to believe she’s her voice of reason.

“Alright. I want five thousand our next new moon. You can handle that can’t you?” Ymir says. There’s rustle of cloth and I believe she stands. “You have your orders Marco, you’re your own Captain, but I’m rather fond of you. Please don’t leave these waters, I’d hate to lose my highest paying citizen.” She chortles and leaves.

Silence falls over the remaining people.

“It’s nearly dinner, tell Sasha I’m in the mood for duck again, if we have it. Please, get ready for port, I think we’ll make it sometime tomorrow, we’ll stayed anchored here for the night though.” Marco sounds exhausted. Almost frightened.

People stand with the rustle of expensive clothing and small pops of bones. “Oh and have Levi warn Ymir of this Smith man, I would like to talk to him about him as well. It can wait though. Dismissed.” Marco stands to show them out.

The door closes with a creak and a clack of the lock.

He sighs and crawls into bed next me, actually pressing against me. I stiffen, eyes wide as he wraps an arm around me and nuzzles into the back of my head. That is not- don’t do that- please go away. But… it feels nice, like a hug.

“Get off me.” I don’t put any force in, but Marco moves away anyway.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. I don’t like it. I can hardly hear the waves crash, even with the window busted. Hearing Eren and Armin recount their last days home has my own buried feelings resurfacing once more. I want to go home, have maman make me an om-om. I miss those. Hear her voice, scolding me for staying up late even though I’m considered a grown ass man. I even want to hear my father’s long ass lectures of the importance of clean clothes and a good job. I miss him just as much as I miss my mother. But with him it’s different. I’m sad he’s gone, but he died on his own. Kinda. The disease took him, but- but he didn’t have any help dying.

“You should talk about Jean. It will help.” Marco says very gently. The fuck does he know?

“…” I don’t know what to say. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t like to see my precious pet sad.” Marco coos rubbing my back like some infant. I would probably hit him, if I didn’t like the attention so much. Jesus H. Christ, I’m pathetic. Craving physical contact from _him_. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting comfort Jean.” Shit, can he read minds now?

“Marco…” sitting up is difficult with me tangled in the blankets and trying not to wake or squish Filou. “What can you possibly gain with all this? Why not just take me now and be done with it?” honestly, doesn’t he just want me for sex? Why do all these back flips and tricks to gain my interest? He already has me, why not- well, it could be worse. He could have done just that… at least Marco wants this to be at least a little consensual.

“I could. But it would make you go away. You beat a dog and it doesn’t like you. I want you to like me enough to give me what I want.” Marco’s finger tips lift my chin up. “How about this, we’ll make a deal, a contract if you will. I give you what you want, and you give me what I want. Deal?”

It sounds like a nice deal. I mean it’s just sex, and it’s not like I’m a virgin, so he’s not taking anything ‘sacred’. The ‘but he’s a man’ argument doesn’t really mean anything to me. I’ve seen men kiss each other my entire life. But Marco can’t give me anything, because I don’t want anything.

“I don’t know what I want.” I say finally looking up at him.

“That’s okay. When you do, let me know and I’ll see what I can do. For now, tell me what happened to make you so surely.” Marco scoots closer, uncomfortably close.

Eventually I tell him basically my entire life up to the point where the sickness took over my life. I tell him how I use to be the fat kid that got teased anytime I stepped out the door. That maman would make my favorite foods so I wouldn’t be sad, probably why I was such a fat kid now that I think about it. Marco giggles and beams and gasps at all the appropriate moments. It makes me feel important, it’s nice. I’ve hadn’t had this much attention paid to me since papa got sick. I tell him of Trost, my favorite haunts and people I use to befriend long enough to get what I wanted. I never had any real friends till Armin, Eren and Mikasa. Wow, that’s pretty sad.

Sasha pushes in and sets down food, still in her earlier clothing and her little kitten (Maggie) on her shoulder. Marco pauses me so we can eat. It’s annoying how he insists on trying to feed me. Goddammit quit, fucking creep. I was in such a good mood too.

He asks more, did I play sports? What books have I read? What art to you draw? No, not much, and how the fuck did you know that I draw? He tells me with pink hiding his freckles that Eren let it slip and- that fucker. That’s it, I’m gonna kill that asshole. Turn him into a German sausage and feed him to the sharks. I’m gonna- Marco is laughing his ass off. What’s so funny?

“You don’t really hate Eren that much do you? I know you are very fond of Mr. Jaeger.” Marco giggles out. I grumble, yes I hate Eren. No I’m not fond of him. Fuck all you who think otherwise.

He asks so much more of my life. My favorite color, how many fights have I won? Lost? Do you enjoy being a sailor? I’m getting dizzy with all this talking. But I tell him as much as I can. What have I got to lose? It means nothing, he only wants to get to know me. Though I’ve been curious as to why. There were plenty of more suitable, pliant people on that ship. I was just a common sea dog to them, even now. Sure I have like five, maybe six months experience, but at least I’m better than most. I learn quickly. Especially manual stuff.

I stop answering his questions and Marco senses the mood. He’s like a fucking empath. I’ve gotten bored of his questions. I don’t care that he wants to know more about me. I’m curious about him though. How did a sweet guy like this freckled Jesus end up a blood thirsty greedy pirate? Does he have family? That’s all though. I can’t give a rats ass about his favorite color or whether or not he played some shitty sports.

Marco leaves with the empty food. And I realize, this has been the first time in over three years that I’ve had three full consecutive meals a day. (I don't count sailors rations because that's not rally food). No wonder I lost all that fat. There was no way to replace is till now. We were considered ‘middle class’ but when the disease began to spread and middle class turned to two meals a day, to two small meals, to one meal a day _if_ we were lucky.

Well I least I won’t fucking starve to death. Maybe die of boredom, or the hang man’s noose if Marco ever gets caught. Could probably play the poor slave boy routine though. But what of the others, my friends? I can’t leave them, no matter how much I try not to care about them… I do… kinda. Okay a lot.

A sigh rips through my entire being. I roll on the floor content on having the rocking of the ship slide me where ever I end up. I quickly get bored of that after having my throbbing head hit the useless table twice, and do some more exploratory snooping.

The book shelf is stuffed. Mostly books, there are scrolls and I don’t know, badly made bindings? Most of them are in that shitty boxy language. There are some slight differences in some. Like this box looks the same as that box, but there’s an extra line thing. I don’t even fucking know. Some even have circles in them. There are very few European languages on these racks. I recognize one Arabic scroll. Not like I can read it though. There aren’t any French, and all the English is something stupid, like whaling or what type of noodles there are. Why the fuck would Marco keep these?

“Snooping again pet?” I glance behind me seeing Marco toe off his slippers. He joins me staring at useless papers.

“Why do you keep this junk?”

“Book aren’t junk Jean.” Marco says caressing a spine of one. The other hand does the same treatment to my nape. Don’t do that. I swerve away from him.

“No, I mean the noodle thing. I get the whaling, but noodles?” I wave the paper in his face. He takes it from my hands and skims over it.

“I need to go through these. I haven’t had time as of late, anytime I acquire something like this I just put it here. Haven’t had time. So busy.” He tuts and rolls the paper up then shoves it in a basket full of similar wads. He tuts again and frowns now having his entire focus on skimming the books and scrolls, occasionally tossing something on the floor next to the basket.

“Do you know Korean Jean?” he’s holding that book with circles in the lettering. I shake my head, of course not. Why the fuck would I know Korean? “How about Japanese?” he picks up another, (after putting the other back, he’s organizing them I see) it’s a scroll with drawings on it, I can’t see what the drawings are, but they look colorful and intricate. I’m intrigued.

“I only know French and English dumb ass.” I wander away from him. Filou’s still sleep, occasionally twitching violently in his sleep. I know a little German, Armin tried to teach me, but I got bored of it. But that little knowledge of German isn’t enough to keep me afloat if someone were to dump me somewhere like Berlin.

I think he mutters ‘Rude’, but I ignore it. I kind of am, so I can’t really say anything against that.

The sky is purpling and darkening faster, so I take liberty and start lighting lanterns. I snoop more, but his room is small and everything that looks even remotely interesting is in a different language. I spot some unmarked paper and a discarded pencil. One thing I love about Germans is that they always seem to think of inventions to make my life easier. It’s nice. Still fuck wads though.

I’ll draw then, not like it’s a secret anyway. Filou is a terrific candidate, provided he does not wake. I have always thought my drawing subpar, though I do believe most armatures do. Mother loved my drawings, encouraged them even. Father approved but warned me not to do it for a living. “An artist’s life is a fickle and he is only good when dead.” He said. Well, he’s not wrong. People may love your art, but it’s never truly valuable till you’re dead.

I draw several small sketches of little Filou. He changes position often enough. I think about doing Marco, but I feel slightly queasy doing that, don’t want him getting the wrong idea. The room is a bit complicated and will take time, time I have plenty of. Maybe when I have better light. I don’t notice Marco is over my shoulder till I feel his breath on my neck.

“You draw so well Jean.”

“Shit!” I jump away, Christ what the fuck it wrong with him? “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Filou wakes with a start, hissing at Marco.

“You are very good.” Marco repeats. I feel my cheek redden against my will.

“Yeah, well…” Filou hisses and goes after Marco. Marco laughs and playfully knocks the little tike over. “Griffe ses yeux mon petit Filou. Crève ses yeux, petit vaurien. Fais le saigner, hein?” Marco furrows his brows.

“What did you tell him?”

“None of your business.” I sniff. _Claw his eyes out my little rascal. Make sure you make him bleed, yeah?_

The sky is dark now. The room is cast in shadows, it’s too late to continue to draw.

“Come to bed with me.” Marco beckons me gently holding my wrist.

“No.” I may be sort of okay with what this pirate wants, but I don’t think I’m ready to take it up the butt just yet.

“Come, come, my bed is like a cloud. You will like it I promise.” Marco insists tugging on my wrist, he successfully gets me to move two steps before I put my heel down. Filou seems to think the golden dragons are the enemy again and is trying to jump and grab them. His tiny claws can’t gain a purchase on the fabric.

“I said no.” I pull away, intent on retreating to my own bed. He grabs me by the waist. “Fucker, I said no! Don’t touch me!”

“Just lay with me. I don’t wish to be cold tonight. Let me hold you while we sleep. Cuddle, is that the English word for it?” Marco insists. Oh, well… if it’s just that…

“If you touch me inappropriately I will break your nose.” I warn. My threat doesn’t seem to scare him even a little bit. He just squeezes me like a little girl finding her lost teddy bear.

I’m nervous anyway, I’ve never slept like this with another man. Well, I kind of have, but that was out of necessity rather than want. We were cold; us boys snuggled up together kept the chill out. Nothing more, nothing less.

Marco pushes me onto the bed, I face the wall it’s pushed against, intent on ignoring his presence. I’m mad that his bed is heaven. He proves impossible to ignore as he pulls the heavy (probably stuffed with feathers) blanket over us and damn near seals our bodies together. Jesus, he might as well stick his dick in me he’s that close. He wraps arms (slightly thicker than mine) around me and holds me there. I can’t escape even if I tried. He sighs, gross hot breath shoots across the back of my head. He kisses my offended head several times before settling down and finally relaxing.

I’m ashamed how fast and comfortably I sleep in the bastard’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> You are like a child [Marco]  
> What they're wearing:
> 
> Marco: http://www.finechineseclothing.com/BACKEND/Resource/ProductPic/280_453/1050A.jpg  
> Eren: http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=55053490  
> Jean: http://www.finechineseclothing.com/BACKEND/Resource/ProductPic/420_680/mhf-6015-new.jpg  
> Mikasa: http://www.kyoto-kashiisyo.co.jp/site_data/cabinet/378_1.jpg  
> Sasha: http://www.finechineseclothing.com/BACKEND/Resource/ProductPic/420_680/WHF-6040-New.jpg  
> Krista: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wBFSdiz29IQ/UbPJSFkD3xI/AAAAAAAACCY/ENViTs6mIFs/s400/jk+(15).jpg
> 
> Levi/Connie are basically wearing a kung fu outfit. it's the only word/name I could find for it.


	8. The American Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some development???
> 
> Some action???
> 
> a false alarm.
> 
> someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know how long it took me to find actual sailing ports in India from like 300 yrs ago?? too long.
> 
> italics are another language.
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention I am tracking "fic: oceans away" on tumblr btw!

It’s been a few weeks now, and I think Jean has warmed up to me some. He laughs more easily in my presence and has been trusted enough to help with general sailing jobs. Jean is still not trusted enough to be out and about during port visits though. He, regrettably, is kept chained in his bed grumpy and spitting French curses at me every time I pop in and check on him. He has also yet given himself to me, which I find more and more frustrating as the days wear on. He has let me touch him more intimately though. I believe he’s just trying to get use to my touch first.

The last of my hostages have been paid for in Jakarta and most of the sellable cargo has been sold. I am rich. Well I won’t be when we make it to India. I have crew to pay and supplies to buy. By then I’ll have only enough for emergencies. Of course, if a fat merchant crosses my path, I may not need to buy supplies.

My window has been repaired by none other than my newest Hindu. Bertholdt has proven very capable with his hands. He’s fixed widely flapping sails, and patched a cannon ball holes quite easily by himself. I am very impressed and immediately wrote him on as head shipwright. Daz tries, but he’s subpar and very spaztic. Why I let him on my boat I have no idea. Bertholdt had failed to mention he worked some construction while in India.

I’m taking tea with Armin and Mikasa on deck. It’s such a lovely day. Mikasa likes to watch as me and Armin play chess. I had taught him and I have never won against the foreigner. His brain is complicated and always working. A man people should fear despite his tiny stature. What he lacks in body he makes up for mind ten times over.

He is very modest about it. He shouldn’t be, but I am glad. People with his brain often get ahead of themselves and become arrogant. A bad way to be tossed from your throne in my opinion.

Jean sits in the crow’s nest. I’m not sure what he is doing, but I think he is drawing. He hides them from me. He doesn’t like anyone seeing. He got so mad when I looked at his cat drawings.

Reiner has taken to teasing Bertholdt about nearly everything. The tall man has yet to do anything about it, he seems to pray to his gods every time Reiner opens his mouth. Not that I blame him, once you get Reiner going, it’s nearly impossible to make him stop. I just hope I’m there when Bertholdt sends Reiner overboard. Any day now.

“Your turn Marco.” Armin says bringing me back to reality.

“Oh, yes sorry.” I move a pawn to capture his rook and immediately regret it, I have left my king vulnerable. Armin wins once again. “I give up, you are too smart for me.” The blond blushes. “I have decided. Armin you are my main tactician. You will help me guide my ship and crew through the seas!”

Mikasa nods in agreement. Eren grunts a yes from the floor. He has taken to nap there, the lazy bum. Not like there’s anything to do with a steady breeze and calm waters.

“No- no, I don’t think-" Armin waves his hands.

“Shut up and take the damn job Armin.” Eren growls between a yawn.

Armin still looks unsure, but he nods. Excellent! It’s been a while since I’ve had such a decent crew!

We are headed too Masilupatam, a popular French trading port on the south eastern side of India. The Bay of Bengal has proven empty as of late, or we keep missing our prey. People are wearier now that pirates are condensed into a small sea. We still have the Pacific, but those waters are dangerous and few actually brave sailing all the way out there.

My ship will need to be in heavy disguise, these ports are usually unfriendly to honest pirates like me. I don’t take towns, that’s an awful lot of work and effort for a small chance of booty. Naw, stick to fat merchants and a few scams. My proud freckled Jolly Rodger has been taken down and now flies Chinese colors. My crew have cleaned up and look less scruffy than usual.

Bertholdt has been nervous since I announced our port. He said he’s never been to the East side of India, but somehow I doubt him. He says he comes from the north western, but I heard him tell Reiner how beautiful the mouth of the Ganges is during a sunset. He’s lying. Hopefully it won’t bite me in the butt.

I watch Jean nimbly climb down from his perch. He lands with a soft thump and proceeds down into the hull of the ship. Not even a glance my way. Sigh, what ever shall I do with my wayward falcon?

A black and white blur speeds by the open hatch that Jean had left open, halting very suddenly by Bertholdt and dropping a dead rat in his lap. The poor man looks green and quickly tosses the rodent into the waters. I can barely hear him praying in whisper for the murder of the rodent. But he praises the cat anyway, after all he is only doing as nature intended.

Levi’s cat Monello grows bolder with each passing day. The little feline has already caused many troubles getting in the feet of crew, demanding attention. Several times he has been the cause of Reiner toppling over trying desperately not to step on the tiny thing. He is the only cat brave enough to lounge on deck. Maggie does not agree with the cold salt air, instead favoring the warm kitchens. While Filou will go anywhere Jean goes; but rarely does he venture outside.

There, just over the horizon. What is that? Spy glass out and trained on the dark speck floating on the cornflower blue waters. Could it be prey? Or predator? It is still too far away to tell for certain, but it is a ship that I am sure of it.

“Mikasa, get the ship ready, I am unsure of this ship. We may have to change port if it is foe.” I go back to the spying on this ship. I really do hope it’s something harmless, I am not in the mood to run or my life.

“What is it Marco?” Jean comes to stand beside me, leaning casually on the railing and squinting at the dark speck.

“Hopefully nothing threatening.” I snap it closed, but Jean easily slips it out of my hand with a snort and quickly climbs up some stray ropes to the highest point of the ship that can withstand his weight. He has impeccable balance. We could do a lot with that…

It is too bad height comes with weight, otherwise I would be up there, or Reiner. We are simply too heavy to go that high. We also don’t fancy falling and dying, so there’s that.

A heavy thump signals Jean’s return. “It’s flying American colors. They’ve added stars, must have killed a few more natives for that. Barbarians.” Jean tosses me back my glass.

“You are living with real life barbarians pet. Is it military or merchant?” I can see it more plainly now, it has gun ports. Please be a cautious merchant. I do not want another brush with the navy. That had been yet another close one, thank the gods for that wind.

“I don’t know. There’s some ugly woman aboard though. I’ve heard a trick that pirates play. They dress as woman then when a ship gets closer they attack. Have you ever done that?” Jean lifts himself onto the railing. “Of course it could be just really ugly woman.”

I frown, there does appear to be some rather… questionable frills on some bodies that obviously weren’t made for. “I’ve always thought that trick a little silly. I have real woman to do that.” I turn around and give Mikasa my signal. Looks like we won’t be taking this ship. Never fought an American pirate before. “Arm yourselves, they may be ugly woman or men is disguise, rather safe than sorry. Continue course, don’t engage in fight unless they shoot first. Please don’t let your guard down!” My crew hurries to do as I ask.

Jean is watching the fast approaching ship.

“Fold the sails Marco, they have the wind. We won’t get away!” Armin shouts.

Damn. He’s right. I jog to the helm. “Port guns get ready! _Sails down they ain’t stopping and I’m sure as hell not gonna lose!”_ there are shouts in agreement. I can feel the rush of adrenaline start to pump through my veins. Jean casually walks down to the weapons locker and picks out a sword. Apparently he’s an excellent fencer (or claims to be).

I swerve my ship cutting off the American who also has to swerve to stop from crashing into us. Mikasa yells fire and the ship rocks sideways as many black balls fly into their target. One ball takes the figure head clear off, another skirts across the deck sending yelping pirates skipping. But it is the ball that hits the bow, just below the water line right under the jagged ends that was the figure head that has me breathing a sigh of relief. Mikasa yells, “Reload!”

Armin jogs to me, “Take the mast. The main one.” I repeat the suggestion to Reiner he nods with a cheeky thumbs up.

Loud booms signal my enemy firing. They are frantic, someone must have noticed they are tipping forward slightly. Bertholdt kicks over Reiner, he would have lost his head if he hadn’t moved. Thank god for Bertholdt. My railings disappear in a shower of deadly wooden splinters. A few of my crew begin to scream, sounds like there has been a hit.

Reiner and Bertholdt are quick in loading the closest canon to the mainmast. Two balls connected by a chain is thrown by Levi to Reiner who easily catches it with a grunt and loads the gun. “Get ready!” I scream over everything. I can hear pops of guns from the other ship. A few cries of pain from my crew. More hits. Levi is already on it, firing his guns and reloading faster than our counterparts.

“Fire when you got a clear shot!” I shout to the giants. Bertholdt has disappeared. I don’t know where he is, but Reiner firing blasts those thoughts away.

The chain clothes lines the mainmast splintering timber with loud cracks, an ominous slow creak soon follows, it falls… toward us. Oh balls.

I’m turning the damn wheel as fast as I can, we’re not turning fast enough. Shoot. Shoot shoot shoot. A great splash greets the mast as it hits the water, sending a small wave over the stern, drenching anyone within the vicinity, including me. The American is weighed down, it sinks a little faster now.

“Did it hit us!?” I scream over the gun fire and screams.

“NO! Just barely scratches us!” It’s Eren bent at the waist over the railing. “We got more broken windows!” Oh thank you ocean gods! Wait… we just fix- Oh my god.

More canon shots from us at Mikasa’s orders and the American takes down her colors. Finally.

Bertholdt sprints toward me, drenched to the knee. “Leak.” He gasps. I grit my teeth.

“Find it! Get it fixed fast! Grab as many available men to help you!” God dang it! I swing aboard the quickly sinking American with my boarding party. Jean, I see goes below with Bertholdt. Good.

“Who’s captain!?” I yell, I am not happy. They have hurt my baby. Reiner is clubbing anyone still trying to fight while Mikasa and Eren take away weapons. Levi goes below gun drawn.

A woman steps forward. I am surprised, how rare! “My father, he is ill. I am to stand for him.” There’s a few guffaws from her crew. Rude. “I also surrendered.” She holds the American colors in her tightly fisted hands.

I nod, “Why attack me I wonder?” I ask her. She has orange hair and freckles, brown eyes that flicker orange in the sunlight. Kind of tall for a woman. Averagely pretty.

“I didn’t. Since I am a woman they did not head my orders.” She stands proud in her ripped gown. I see there is some blood on her under skirts. I really hope she is on her cycle and that it isn’t what I think it is.

“Well that’s not very nice.” I comment. “Sasha, take her aboard and get this fair captain cleaned up and presentable.” Sasha hops over putting her bow away and leads the shocked woman away.

“May I see this sick captain then? No? Shame on all of you, treating a lady like this.” I turn to Eren. “Go find the sick captain please-” I suddenly realize the same as everyone else. “Find Levi, bring him out now, get back on the ship all of you!” Eren sprints away. Everyone is drops whatever they were doing and fling themselves back onboard. “Mikasa warn Sasha. Let’s pray it’s not what I think it might be.” She nods and dashes away.

Jean comes sprinting out just as Mikasa goes in. “The leak isn’t one, it’s several. Grape shot. The good news is they are small and easily patched, above the water line, if only just.” I nod and he jogs back under.

Eren and Levi swing back to our side. “Well?”

“Dead captain. Of scurvy. Most the crew is showing symptoms of the same. Nothing of value.” Eren reports. His hands are shaking. My crew sags in relief.

“Shove off. Leave the scum!” So much for the nice day.

Levi takes me aside and hands me a map. I give him a questioning look. “Talk to the daughter. That man didn’t die of scurvy.”

“Was it-?”

“No, we searched every inch of his body.” Levi shudders. “But his death is still mysterious. I suspect poison, and I believe because of this,” he taps the paper, “I’m going to bathe now.” Levi leaves my presence.

Lovely. I have to interrogate the miss now, and make sure we don’t sink. Well, occupational hazard I’d say. I tuck the map away in my vest and get directions to the leaks.

Jean and Bertholdt are drenched to the thighs now. We’re not taking in that much water already are we? No we’re not, the water is only ankle deep they’re just crawling along trying to find all the leaks. How lovely those wet breeches cling to Jean… yum.

“Status report?” both men jump. Daz is in the corner shaking like a leaf and repeating “We’re sinking” over and over again. Okay, I’m leaving him at the next port. Armin splashes by, “Another hole, small about two inches in diameter.”

Bertholdt nods and follows Armin. Jean sits down on his bum, uncaring of the water getting him wetter. He digs in his vest a pulls out a cigarette. A disgusting habit I learned he picked up again. Apparently he ‘hadn’t had a decent smoke in three years’. Gross. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“So?”

“So what?” he lights the vile thing and blows the smog toward me.

“How is everything?”

“Good I guess.” He shrugs. “We’re not sinking. Just get someone to pump this water out and we’re good. Bertholdt says he’ll do proper repairs in port.” Another drag. More grey smoke joins the dusty air.

Sighing I make my way back to the hatch leading to the upper decks, “Be presentable for dinner pet, we have a guest.”

“Eat shit.”

Rude. He’ll do it anyway or his arse feels the bamboo switch I’ve been threatening him with. Haven’t used it yet, and hopefully I won’t ever have to.

* * *

 

Jean is laying on his stomach, legs crossed and in the air in his bed. He is not dressed but has a satin robe haphazardly wrapped around him, his skin still looks damp and his hair still drips. He’s also chewing on a chopstick. Of course it’s considered impolite to do so, and at first Jean did not know, but when I told him, well he made it a point to chew on his just to irk me. It works.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” today has been wearing my patience thin. I search for the bamboo switch, I know I put it somewhere near- aha! It’s about three feet in length, one and a half inches thick where I hold it, and a mere point at the tip. Even a tiny whack will sting for a few minutes. Perfect for my bratty pet.

He shrugs and tosses the chopstick at the table. I assume he meant for it to land on the table, he has clearly missed. He also does not get up to pick up his mess. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use you.

I give Jean’s bottom a good stiff smack. He yowls and jumps away. “What the hell was that for!?”

“I told you to be dressed. You are not dressed and you are dripping all over my expensive pillows.” I feel like a school teacher or a nanny scolding a wayward toddler.

Jean snarls and says, “You aren’t my mother.”

I raise the switch again, he flinches back a look of uncertainty flickers across his face. I am very glad it is not fear I see in him, at least not the fear he had a few weeks ago, more like (as much as the analogy makes my skin crawl) a fear a little boy has when his mother catches him doing something naughty. “Don’t make me use it again.” I warn.

He clicks his tongue harshly and stumbles to his clothes rubbing his bottom. I’m sure that French he’s hissing are curse words. Or even actual curses. No matter, he is learning.

Jean defies me again by wearing his sleep clothes. Cotton draw string pants and a simple pull over shirt with short sleeves and a very sharp V for the neck. I can’t say anything because he is presentable and that’s all I asked of him. He knows it too. Perhaps I should make him cuddle me in retaliation?

“I’m going to bring our guest. Behave yourself.” Jean sits at the table, he rests an arm on a bent knee as he lights another cigarette. He takes a drag and blows smoke rings at me. The light from the window casting attractive shadows on his form, he knows it too the cocky frog. You are definitely in my bed tonight mister.

Jean has incense burning and sits properly at the table, food is already set and still steaming when I usher in Miss Captain. He is already helping himself to the food. I frown at him and he rolls his eyes and gestures for us to join him.

I can’t help but notice how she shakes slightly as I guide her to the table. Sasha has set out the western cutlery for our guest. Jean isn’t using them much to my surprise.

“Couldn’t you wait till we sat down and exchanged pleasantries pet?” I ask of him exasperated.

“Why?” freaking brat.

Sigh, well. “Help yourself to the food Miss-?” she doesn’t seem to understand I’m asking who she is. She fidgets as eyes dart from us to the door several times. Jean snorts and I elbow him harshly. “I am Marco, the captain of this beautiful ship.” Jean rolls his eyes. “This is my little bratty pet, Jean.”

“Okay, one, I am not your pet. Two, I’m not little.” Jean pokes his utensils at me – they have noodles on them; he shoves them in his mouth when he’s through speaking.

“Yet you do not deny that you are bratty.” My tone is questioning as well as teasing.

Miss appears to be confused about our exchange, she is gingerly placing food on her plate and very cautiously eating. She looks like a frightened rabbit.

“Who is she anyway?” Jean likes to use his eating utensils as a pointing finger I see.

“Excuse his rudeness. I have yet to train him out of it.” Smiling makes everything better.

“Fuck you.” I wonder if it’s appropriate to gag him.

“As I was saying, Jean is right though. Please, tell us who you are and how your sunk ship has gotten to that point. Also this map we found on your ship.” I load my plate as she processes what I’ve said. Jean grabs the map poking out of my shirt and unrolls it to look at it.

“My ship… has sunk?” she asks hands now in lap.

“Afraid so, too many canon holes can do that.” I’m not sorry either. Blow holes in my ship will you?

“My father?” she asks a bit shaky in the voice.

“Dead. My acting doctor suspects foul play.” Jean pauses his munching, listening to every word.

She nods and picks up her fork. “Yes. Well, my name is Hannah Diamant. And well, it’s kind of a long story.”

“We have all night.”

Jean groans in mock agony, the map gets dropped with no care onto the floor where it rolls itself back up. I elect to ignore him. I know he’s interested enough to stay up and hear her tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop
> 
> I apologize if the action wasn't all that good, I am terrible at that kind of stuff, but lord do I try. I also had to keep going back to make sure I was using the proper sailing/ship terms for this. please let me know if I fucked up, it's terribly embarrassing to read over and see you fucked up royally....
> 
> love you all


	9. Finaly, the Time for M Rating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Hannah sucks at story telling
> 
> Jean and Marco semi do the do
> 
> Jean has a pleasant morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao, I just realized I completely forgot Jean has a cat. just pretend he's there and just being a recluse. lmao.

‘Long story’ my ass.

It took like fifteen minutes to say her father found a weird map and suddenly the crew wanted it and bad shit happened and now he’s dead. That is literally all she said.

I’m so upset, I was all ready for an all-night tale full of you know, action-piratey-ocean bullshit. I wanted blood-shed, fights, an evil curse (actually no, Marco has the map in his possession please no curses), maybe even a shitty gross romance thrown in there. Fifteen goddamn minutes of her leaking tears and shaking like a leaf. Boooooriiing.

Marco deflates, guess he was expecting the same.

Hannah sniffs, “Th-that’s it.”

“I’ll say.” Disappointment drips from my lips. Marco elbows me and gives me a look. I have a feeling I’m gonna pay for my attitude today. Eh. What’s he gonna do? Cuddle me to death?

“Don’t be rude. She’s been through a lot.” Marco scolds. Are you fucking kidding me? _She’s_ been through a lot? Please. Spare me. “Hannah, what where those red stains in your underskirts?” oh. That’s what you mean.

Hannah freezes. “Y-you saw that did you?” she puts her fork down and with drawls, “The m-men didn’t like a-a woman giving orders. I-I told them father was sick, he-he was already dead. But, what would have happened to me if-if they found out?”

“It happened anyway didn’t it?” I’m furious. I never understood why people enjoyed such sick activities.

She shakes her head. “I was mutinied and they turned pirate. Kept me, I’m a woman. They’re strong, stupid, and lonely men at sea for months at a time.” She burst into tears it makes the both of us flinch.

Um. Um. Um. Ummmmmmmmm. Uh- Marco? What do?

I’m not good with emotions, especially weepy emotions. Especially a woman’s weepy emotions. Oh god. There’s snot. Um. Uh. There’s a tissue around here somewh- here!

“Um… Hannah, a- uh tissue?” god that was pathetic. Her shaking freckled hand takes the tissue. Christ she’s got more freckles than Marco and Ymir combined.

“What are you going to do with me?” she wails. A valid question in my opinion.

“We-well you can join my crew if you want?” goddamn Marco; that was pathetic. “I can guarantee none of my crew will touch you without your permission.” Well he’s not lying. They may leer and wolf whistle, but it’s all in ‘good nature’ and not meant for harm.

Especially Reiner. The Gaylord. Well I think he’s gay. I mean he’s been staring at Bertholdt’s ass for weeks now. Poor Bertholdt.

I lean over to whisper in his ear, “I’m gunna go get… someone… yeah.” I hop up and practically sprint away. His look of ‘please don’t leave me alone with her’ feels so damn good.

There’s a tall tanned guy with a shaved head like Connie in the first hall I enter, he also happens to be the first person I run into. Good enough. I drag him back with me. Franz I think his name is. He’s a cool guy, I’m pretty sure he’s queer. So we’re good. Also he’s like really tall, like Reiner tall.

Apparently (according to Marco’s ‘oh thank heavens’ face) I chose well. Hannah stops her wailing long enough to get a look at him.

“Oh.” She says. He cheeks redden. “I’m Hannah.” Me and Marco squint at her. Hah?

“Hi, I’m Franz. Jean says you need a tour? I’ll be happy to give you one.” He holds out his tanned weathered hand to her and she takes it like he’s some kind of prince charming. Holy shit. Since when did I step into a story book? I didn’t tell him anything about her either, I just grabbed him and dragged him here.

There’s a deep silence that settles over us after the pair leave. It’s that kind of silence where it’s awkward, but not between you and x person, but because of what just happened. Marco owlishly blinks and I’m sure I look the same.

“Ooookay…”

“Hm.” I just go back to eating, we had to skip lunch and I’m starving. I’ve gotten use to eating three meals a day. I’ve gained enough of my body weight back that none of my ribs show any more, I’m even gaining a little pooch. It’s nice, but I have to watch out, I work really hard for the muscles I have, can’t have them outshined. Even if the food is to die for.

Marco goes off and does his own thing, the door closes with that familiar squeak and the lock clatters into place. Shuffling and humming greets my ears as I continue to scarf down food. Guess freckles isn’t hungry anymore. Sweet. More for me.

“Jean.” He sounds apprehensive.

“Hm?” I have noodles in my mouth.

“Are you… are you happy?” hm? What’s brought this on? No of course I’m not- well. Actually never thought about it.

“Dunno.”

“O-oh.” Silence greats us again.

Am I happy? Well, as happy as I can be stuck as a pet to a crazy Chinaman for possibly life. I have limited freedoms (meaning I can go where ever the hell I want on the ship, but once that speck of dirt is seen I’m right back on that damn manacle). I hate it, but it could be worse. I’m fed daily good food. I have nice warm clothes and a clean bed. And although Marco is a bit hands-y he still stops when I say no. Again it could be worse. I can be stuck being violated every night. Instead I’m stuck with Marco petting me like a damn dog and cooing about how cute I am.

Honestly, I don’t even care that he wants to have sex with me anymore. Go for it. I just want to see how long it takes before he just goes at it. It has become some sort of a game to me. And I’ve been having more fun than I originally intended. At first it was only to test his word about us being consenting, and after weeks of barely bothering to cloth myself and letting him nibble here and there, he’s proven true to his word.

Some nights when he forces me to cuddle with him and his hands start to wander, I just start to think what would it be like? To lie with a man? To have Marco touch me like that sexually instead of teasing? But when the touches actually stop being teasing and those chaste kisses he pecks all over become suckling on my neck harshly and hands being a bit grabby… I get scared. Really scared.

Other than that, yeah. Yeah I think I am happy.

If only the asshole would stop asking about what happened in Trost.

* * *

 

Marco keeps making these noises. I’m trying to fucking sleep here. He drags me into bed, then he goes and not sleeps. He’s tossing and turning and making weird noises. I’m actually kind of afraid to see what he’s doing. But I’ve always been a mildly curious guy, here goes nothing.

Please don’t be masturbating. Please don’t be masturbating. Please-

“What’s your issue?” he’s not masturbating. Thank you Jesus.

“I’m frustrated.” He says flopping his arms down as he rolls onto his back.

“Well go be frustrated somewhere else. I’m trying to sleep.” I turn back around.

“You are in my bed.”

“Who’s fault is that?” you, that’s who fucker.

He makes a whiney noise and I’m about to fucking suffocate him with a damn pillow.

Marco sighs, I can feel the bed next to me dip more as he puts more weight on it, I’m tilting slightly toward him now, and he grabs my shoulder to guide me on my back. Ugh. What now? Wait no- no don’t roll on top of me! Uh-oh. I- I was just kidding about that not caring thing. I care man, don’t do it!

“Jean, help me with this will you?” eh? With what- OH. Marco dips his lower half down till I feel his ‘frustration’. Um- uh, no… Maybe?

“Uhm- Ma-Marco, listen um- I I don’t think I can um-” shit, I feel so goddamn weak.

“You don’t have to do much, just let me touch you please?” Marco nuzzles his face into my neck. I’m positive he can feel me gulp. He’s not actually waiting for me to say yes, his declaration is just a heads up before he goes and actually touches me.

Marco lays fully on me now, he’s not as heavy as he looks. It’s-it’s not so bad. I mean his gentle brushings and cute little suckling feels kinda nice. I can’t stop my hands from shaking though. It’s not a big deal right? He’s done this to you before Jean. It’s only, this time he actually is aroused and plans on doing something about it… queue audible gulp.

“Don’t be so nervous pet. I only want to-” I practically jump out of my skin when he grinds his erection onto my hip. I will admit I wasn’t expecting that. “I can make you feel good too.” He hums in my ear. Okay, let’s just pretend I didn’t just shudder. Nope. That was totally not because that sounds even a little bit nice. Nope. Still hate you.

I turn my head away from his face and close my eyes. “Just get it over with, I’m tired.” It comes out as a grumbly-growl. He hums and proceeds with a sad sigh. Geeze, way to make me feel bad.

And he does. He’s grinding against my hip while he sucks gross hickies on my neck, yanking my up shirt to do the same with my torso. His grinding has moved to my thigh. I’m trying my best to ignore his sounds, the way he’s touching me, but I can’t. However gross that sucking is, it’s… pleasant. Okay fuck it. It feels good. Like really good.

I’ve stopped paying attention to what Marco’s doing, concentrating on my breathing and just overall not looking at him. But his large hands are hard to ignore, the way they just caress everything. He’s tickling me more than arousing me now- shit wait no he’s not-

Yeah. He is.

Dammit.

Marco’s touch is arousing me and I feel so strange about it. He brushes a nipple and fucking holy balls that felt swell.

Asshole chuckles and does it again. “It’s okay Jean. Just let me make you feel good.” Has his voice always sounded so silky-smooth? Was his scent always so… intoxicating? Why is the room suddenly so hot?

“I’m scared.” Marco stops, his warming touch gone as he leans back. Shit. I hadn’t mean to say that out loud. Fuck.

“Scared? Of what?” Marco has concern written all over his freckled fucking stupid face. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” It’s a near whisper. His hand cups my cheek as he leans down and presses a kiss on my forehead. Goddamn. I’m supposed to hate you. Stop caring so much.

“I just-” I don’t want to get attached. I don’t want to care for you. “I just don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” His lips brush as close to my mouth as he dares. Would it be so bad to kiss him? He does it again and I strategically move so we meet, hope it looks like an accident because like shit, I hadn’t thought it would feel so nice. Marco lets out this big puff of air like he just done something amazing. It can’t be all that good, we barely touched.

It’s all so fast I barely have time to protest. His hands grab my face and shit he just, like, starts making out with me. It’s deep a passionate and I can’t keep up. I don’t even realize I’m participating till he leans back and laughs.

“It’s not so bad Jean. It’s good.” I just stare at him stupidly, lips a little sore. Holy fuck, am I hard? Marco shifts, ye-yeah I’m hard. Whoops. He grins and grinds down- oh man. It’s been a while. Like oh. Wow.

He dives back down and I don’t even hesitate joining him, holy mother of all fuck, what has this freckled angel done to me? I can’t be mad at him, I can’t find it in myself to leave him, and now we’re grinding on each other like some pair of horny kids. Goddamn.

The next thing I know Marco is trying to shimming our pants down, I think I moan. I hope not, god this is so embarrassing. “Ma-Marco what’re you doing?”

“Just a sec-uund.” Marco has his hands wrapped around the both of us now.

Fuuuck, never mind I figured it out.

“Je-Jean.” Wow, his voice sounds good.

There’s barely any space between us, my hands twist into the sheets, back arches. Fuck fuck. This feels amazing. Marco breathes long and heavy breathes in my ear, the moisture makes me cringe, but the sounds he makes is worth it. Why was I scared of this? The rutting becomes something akin to deeper. Thrusts are longer, heavier, Marco has taken to sloppily sucking on my jaw. God, I feel useless just laying here.

Should d-do something. Pe-pet his hair. Yeah he-he’ll like that right? It takes a few seconds to locate my hands, shit they’re still shaking? And tentatively wrap them around his broad shoulders. Where they always this broad? He shudders this-this deep fucking moan. Holy Christian jingle how do I make him do that again? I did that? Shou-should I say something?

“Fe-feels good.” Lame. That was lame. So lame. Please burry me right now. But I guess he doesn’t see it as lame because we’re closer than ever, I can feel every breath he heaves in and out as our chest bump into each other with each breath. It that his or my heart beating?

My orgasm come to me at a complete surprise. So surprising that I think I lose consciousness for a second. Whoa.

“Jean.” Marco is breathless, I can feel his arm shake, my… stomach feels… sticky… gross.

“Y-yeah?”

“Let go pl-please.” There’s a breathless chuckle than ghost over my face it makes me face warm. Oh no.

“Huh?” oh. Shit! I’m clinging to him like a damn koala. Fingers tangled in dark strands in need of a trim. When did I wrap my legs around him? I let him go like I was holding a deadly snake and he flops onto his back.

“That was nice.” There’s this big ass grin on his face. I want to slap it off him. “Whelp.” Marco leaps off the bed a leaves my sight.

What the hell? He’s just gonna leave? Like that? I feel so used. Pshh. What did I expect? A pat on the head and a good job? No, that would have just pissed me off. Him leaving should make me feel better, but why do I feel so empty? Shit. Am I actually tearing up? What the fuck? He’s a _pirate_ Jean, don’t think so highly of him.

_Plop._

A cold wet thing lands on my semi-bare stomach.

“Clean up.” Marco looks less stressed. The little wrinkles he’s been acquiring around his eyes and forehead have been ironed out. Sex really is a stress reliever huh? “I can do it for you.” He puts a knee on the bed like he’s going to do just that, with a jolt I realize he didn’t leave, well he did, but not in the way I thought. Also he’s still half naked.

“I can do it myself.” Sitting up and rubbing the wet cloth over our gross combined seamen. “And put some pants on.” I throw the soiled rag at him and slip my own pants back on. He laughs, but I can hear a rustle of him doing just that. The bed dips and I turn away from him resuming my previous position of facing the wall. Marco wiggles closer till his front is glued to my back. I can’t find it in myself to tell him to go away.

I’ve always been a sucker for after sex cuddles.

Damn him.

* * *

 

I wake up first for once.

Marco is on his own side of the bed gently snoring away with his limbs wrapped around a pillow. How cute. Must think that cotton bag is me. Has his legs always been so long? Wait, why do I care? And why is my shirt crusty?

?????

The memory of last night hits me like a ton of bricks to the face. We had sex! Well, okay, not like full blown to penetration, and honestly when you think back it was actually kind of disappointing. All we did is rub against each other. Man that’s awfully boring. And you know, I’m actually not all that bothered by the fact I had semi-sex with the man that kidnapped me and keeps me as a pet against my will.

That’s some fucked up shit right there. Must be the head injury. Which by the way is nearly completely healed. There’s still a bruise and a small dent that will probably never go away, but at least it’s smaller than it was when I first woke up. I still get head rushes if I stand to fast, headaches come and go at random, and blackness sometimes spots if I’m especially in the anger zone.

Whelp. Time to burn this shirt along with the memory.

It’s slow going trying to get off the bed without waking darling dearest. Silently I change into some clean clothes, still haven’t figured out where he put the clothes he kidnapped me in, my mom made that vest, those were my dad’s pants. I want them back. I’ve been growing found of the Indian clothing, they’re not so dressy or shiny like the orient. Kurta I think the tunic thing Bertholdt wears is called, not sure, heard it in passing when Reiner was teasing him about wearing a dress.

This one, the one I’m currently holding is a dusty purple, it can pass as grey, and a short one, as in it goes to my thighs rather than to my shins; it also has a split collar that shows just a bit of chest. I pick some random baggy pants that are tight around the ankle. Comfortable, breezy without worrying whether or not you hanfu is gunna untie and let everything hang out. Slippers slipped on (because I can’t seem to fucking find my own goddamn shoes) and I’m out the door before Marco can process the lock unlatching and the awful squeak.

Someone needs to fix that.

You know, I actually feel terrific. The sky maybe a bit hazy from left over fog and a bit chilly from the same, but I feel the most relaxed since, well a really long ass time. I head for the railing and pick a good spot to sit and just gaze out into the endless dark blue. Never truly regretted leaving by ocean. The view is always the same yet different. The colors change daily, hourly, even minutely. It’s never the same shape of wave or the same amount of water splashing you if you get to close to a big swell.

I can see why Armin and Eren were obsessed with the big salty water.

We’re not moving, just bobbing up and down, must have anchored for the night.

I don’t see many people out. I think that’s Reiner asleep on watch in the platform on the mainmast. Eren is climbing up from the nets hanging from the bow, soaking wet and holding a net of bleeding fish. Other crew members I know by face but never name mill about, fixing rope, reading, playing games. Too early to actually do anything productive I guess.

Sasha meets Eren out and she grabs the fish with greedy hands, Eren recoils slightly. I think she compliments him because his cheeks redden and he does his nervous laugh thing while rubbing the back of his neck. He spots me watching and sends me a death glare.

Pshh asshole.

Bertholdt enters my peripheral. He’s staring up at Reiner’s sleeping form a deep frown in place. He’s searching around deck for something, I don’t know what he picks up, but he throws it at Reiner and it hits him square in the jaw. I laugh as Reiner starts and nearly falls twenty feet to his death. Oh shit, that shouldn’t be funny. Bertholdt crosses his arms smug; Reiner is cursing up a storm demanding the person who dare wake him to stand and deliver. The giant blond spots Bertholdt and there’s this red flush that takes his cheeks so brightly I can see it from my position across the deck.

I turn away no longer interested as they begin to talk, I think Reiner convinces the Hindu to join him up there.

I haven’t tried drawing any of the people on this ship. Today is a perfect day to do just that. Too bad my lazy ass is comfortable right where I am and I left my drawing pad in the cubby hole deep under the mish-mash of pillows that can be loosely called a bed.

Aw well. Not like I can go anywhere anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many small scenes that where suppose to make it in by now, but I never get around to actually writing them. also this story is no where near being done, like I don't even know how to end it. maybe when the scenes I want to write run out. aw well.
> 
> LOVAE YA'LL SO MUCH! everytime I get love from you guys I tear up ;-;


	10. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after.
> 
> some bullshit bad news and past.
> 
> finally got around to writing Marco's tid-bit still have a few things to say about it though.
> 
> Also the scene that started this au begins at the end and finishes toward the end of next chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me forever to finish his chapter! good news though, term is over so I have most of December to maybe finish this and maybe even start/finish the rest of my fantasy au!
> 
> anyway enjoy!

I’ve always hated waking to an empty bed. But what can I expect from a man afraid of what might be? I am still shocked that he allowed me to touch his person as I pleased, usually after a few too many (not enough) deeply intimate acts Jean violently protests and scuttles away to safety.

The longer I know him the more I believe he is afraid to care, or even to love someone. I expect he’s a man who’s had his heart wounded too many times for simple words and touches to mend. One thing is for sure, Jean Kirschtien is warming up to me, his fear is slowly thawing.

The room is stuffy, old incense and tobacco smoke clog the air, giving it a distinct musty scent. Okay time to open the window for the day.

The open window lets in the sea breeze and I gladly sticky my upper body out deeply inhaling salt and life giving oxygen. The usual sounds greet me: the waves, seagulls, a cackling dolphin, but there’s one more sound I hear. It is Jean laughing, I’m sure of it, though it is a distance away; I believe that is Reiner cursing up a storm.

Did Bertholdt finally give him what for? I am upset I have missed it. Oh well I’m sure there will be other times.

The small clock mounted on the wall above the desk closest to me says seven thirty. Sasha must be making breakfast by now. We are anchored and not likely to move till we’ve all had our fill to eat, so I guess I can update the logbook. It has been a few days, but as nothing has happened since yesterday and I didn’t feel the need to write.

I have lost time writing. I am nearly done when Jean barges in a tray of food balanced in one arm, the other arm holding the door open as he tries to kick Monello away. Little Filou is perched on his shoulder hissing at his brother.

“Quit, fucking cats. Vous arrêtez votre bruit.” I decide to help the poor frog by taking the tray off his hands before it spills.

Mmmm, Sasha’s chickens must have laid eggs. Ooh! Even those German sausages I like so much. European food can be so bland, but I think with a little spice it becomes very good. Also there are some flat bread stuff, mmm pancakes. They’re very good, my favorite especially with some syrup and maybe some fruit if we can spare it.

Jean has finally managed to beat back the little devil, Filou still clings to his shoulder fur standing on end but no longer hissing. Jean has to pull unkindly for the kitten to let go.

“Petit démon. Monello ne t'as rien fait.” Jean scolds his cat. Well I think it’s scolding by the way his brows pull up and together and the way Filou looks at the ground. How odd.

“What was that about?” I ask of him pilling my plate with those pancakes and sausages.

“Filou just started shit is all.” Jean fills his own plate with eggs and some fruit.

We eat in silence, but there’s a sadness in the air coming from Jean. He is not regretting last night is he? I have worked so hard! Before I can question his emotional state Jean says, “Hannah is pregnant.”

Oh my word. That poor girl.

“She has no idea who the father is, there being so many men. She wishes to terminate the pregnancy for the good of the child.” Jean picks at his eggs, face somber.

“And what do you think?”

“It’s not my place. It’s her choice, I am a man, I will never be able to know what a woman goes through when she carries a child she won’t be able to love properly. I don’t like it, but I understand why she is doing it.” Those have probably been the wisest words I’ve ever heard come from Jean’s mouth. My little Frenchman is a bit of what do they call it… a feminist? It sounds right.

“I agree. Will Eren or Levi be able to do it?” I hope so, Hannah should have someone who knows those things to do it.

“Eren says he’s assisted his mother once, but it was a still birth and not a live fetus. And Eren was a child and didn’t quite comprehend what the hell was going on. Levi on the other hand said he could do it.” Jean pushes some more egg around his plate.

“Eat Jean. There’s nothing that can be done. Hannah seems to be a strong girl, she’ll be fine.” I try and assure him. He nods and stabs an apple slice with more force than necessary.

Throughout breakfast Jean is somber. He feeds Filou some of the meat and eggs he can’t seem to get down. I have a feeling his mood isn’t just because a stranger is terminating something that literally has nothing to do to him. It must be an issue he’s familiar with.

“Jean, what… what is making you sad? Tell me.” I reach out for him and I am surprised he doesn’t draw away.

“I use to have an older sister, she was- the man who forced- she was like Hannah. Father was furious, believing at first that she had-” he swallows thickly, “That she had eloped unmarried, when he learned the truth it was too late.” He mumbles.

I have an awful feeling as to where this story ends. “Too late for what Jean?” I take it back I do not wish to know.

“My sister was very pretty. Many people courted her and got very angry when she denied advances. One man took it too far and my sister took her life full of shame. Me and maman was in the market. Papa was the one to find her hanging from the ceiling.” There are tears in Jeans eyes now, his shoulders shake. Oh you poor thing. “He-he didn’t have ti-time to remover her-her, we saw her and-and-” there’s full sobs coming from him now. His accent becoming more apparent as he sobs.

He doesn’t hesitate to bury his head in my chest when I sprint around the table to embrace him. I try my best to sooth him, but I literally have no experience with losing close family like that. My parents and younger sibling still live happily on their rice farm. My aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents and the like either pass by accident or of age. Nothing like this. I should write to my precious parents. Let them know I am doing well.

“My father killed him.” Jean says at last. “I was very young, and barely remember anything, but I do remember the rage I felt when no one believed she had been forced.” I just hug him tighter, it’s all I can do.

After a good while Jean pulls away, face splotchy from crying. “Sorry.”

Why is he apologizing? “You have nothing to apologize for. What happened was horrible. You are no less of a man by showing emotion for the death of a loved one.” I pet his cheek, he looks away. He looks so tired. A man my age should never look this tired.

I kiss him full on the lips, a small chaste one and my heart leaps with joy that he allows it. “Why don’t you nap? I will try and join you soon if I can, I do have duties as captain.” My pet nods gazing longingly as his bed.

By the time I have gathered our remains of breakfast Jean has already curled himself into a ball, eyes closed. Filou plays with a fallen sausage in the background. I let him have his fun, as long as I don’t find a sausage when I come back.

* * *

 

There is in fact, still a link of meat on the floor when I return. I elect to ignore it as the tawny kitten is curled around it fast asleep. Jean is not, his eyes are closed but it is very apparent that sleep alludes him. I want him to tell me more of his sadness. Not that I wish to torment him more, but I feel as if talking about whatever harms his heart will help him heal. But again, I have no personal experience and I pray I never shall.

“Jean.” He looks up, eyes hollow. “Will you tell me more of your sadness?”

“You won’t leave me be till I tell you, will you?” he asks back. His voice is small and grumpy.

“No.” he sighs like someone just told him to take out the trash.

“What sadness?”

I join him in the pillow nest, Jean favors an emerald green pillow, hugging it to his chest like some precious toy. He sits up as I sit down. “The one you carry Jean.” Must he beat around the bush like this? I pegged him as a very blunt person.

“I have a lot of what you’re calling sadness.” He says.

“You’re parents Jean.” He freezes eyes wide, then he looks away.

“Not much to tell. Father caught the disease ‘bout two, three years ago. Died of it. Me and maman had to move on, neither of us barely left the house in fear of catching it.” He pauses, I move closer, encouraging him. He won’t look at me, instead intent on staring at nothing. “Maman tried to hide the sore on her arm, but I saw it. I was wondering why she no longer touched me, or made me food, or did anything to interact with me. I thought she no longer loved me as crazy as that sounds. I cried so hard that night, there haven't been a single report of _anyone_ surviving.”

“And then?” I am knee to knee with him; his gaze move to our laps.

“Eren brought us food, I never left the house in case I had caught it; I didn’t want to leave maman. I took care of her the best I could, but someone found out and they barred our doors and windows and set fire to my house. I knew it would take a while though, we’re one of the few houses in Trost made of stone.” Jean takes a shuddering breath, I can feel the tension leaving him, he’s finding solace I know it.

“How did you get out?” I can’t help the excitement in my voice.

“I’m getting there hold your horses. Fuck.” I would say I am, but I think he’d throw me out the window for it. “At this time, maman was bed ridden, she couldn’t even lift her arms anymore; she lost all her huskiness. Maman was on the bigger side, not fat but not thin either- big boned I guess.” he smooth’s out my confusion. “She-she gave me clear instructions on where papa’s pistol was hidden and where the crawl space was. Smoke was starting to fill the room when I finally finished packing my bag and locating papa’s pistol. I-I was shaking so badly. I didn’t want to do it, but it was better than maman burning to death or slowly wasting away. So I, I told her I loved her and pulled the trigger.” Jean sniffs and wipes his eyes with his sleeves.

A let him collect himself before urging him on. “I don’t know how long I stood over maman’s body. I didn’t realize how big of a mess the gun would make. There was blood all over the bed sheets and pillow and wall. I guess close range gives it more of a kick.” He snorts and stares at nothing again. “In the pantry there’s a little hatch that leads under the house, crawl towards the back door and kick open the little painted duck. I did and ran like hell. If anyone would have seen me escape I would’ve been killed. It was pure luck no one saw me and I caught up with Eren and Armin.”

He looks me straight in the eye. “That’s it.”

I don’t know what to say. “I don’t think any less of you.” Jean snorts, eyes rolling so hard I’m sure it hurts.

“Like I care what you think of me.” But I think you do pet. You care what everyone thinks, you’re just good at lying to yourself.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

He looks like a scared little boy again. “Can… you… can you just hold me? Please?”

I smile and open my arms wide for him, he folds in so nicely in my embrace. So I hold and rock him, humming little songs my mother would sing to me in times of distress. Yes, my hot-blooded frog needs plenty of love and I have plenty to give. He falls asleep not long after I coo him into it.

* * *

 

Two days ago Jean told me what kept him sad and heartbroken, yesterday Levi and Eren completed Hannah’s abortion. Never really had an opinion on that area. Don’t have a uterus, so I can’t really find it in myself to care.

Jean still mopes slightly (when isn’t he?), but he acts more cheery outside among friends. Well they’re my friends anyway, I think Jean just tolerates most of the people on board. Sigh, just when I think Jean is over being an angsty young man I am proven wrong all over again. I want to slap him so hard sometimes.

We silently sit for dinner, tomorrow we will be in India so Jean goes back on his chain. He hasn’t stopped glaring at me since Thomas announced that he’s spotted land.

“It won’t be so bad Jean. I’ll bring you back a present!” smile Marco he’s not buying it. His hawk like eyes glare harder, narrowing till only a sliver of amber can be seen.

He keeps glancing toward the window, whether or not he’s thinking he can jump and swim to land I do not know. Either way, he won’t be able to make it, I’ve seen some sharks swim circles around us; I’ve warned Jean of this. Sasha must be feeding them again (I’ve told her not too). Maybe he thinks he can out swim them, I’ve swam with sharks before – it’s scary but not that dangerous, just don’t make any panicky moves and makes sure you’re not bleeding and they’ll pass you right by. However, I’m confident he can’t swim that far, we’re like two miles from any touchable sand.

“What made a sweet guy like you turn pirate I wonder.” Huh? This is the first time Jean has taken an interest in my history. Development!

“I woke up one day and went ‘māmā, bàba, I want to be a pirate’.” I say.

“No really.” Jean looks at me with a face twisted into annoyed disbelief.

“Really. That is what happened. The rice farm I grew up on was only a mile or two from the ocean, I would walk my little sibling there any day we were not working. I have always loved the ocean, I wanted to fly through the waves like a dolphin. Be as free as a bird and as fierce as a shark. I wanted to command a ship and men with it, plunder merchants and seek buried treasure.” It’s silly now that I think about it, mother and father had laughed, thought I was joking.

“Your dream was to steal and be the scum of the earth? Pathetic.” Jean sets his rice and pork bowl down harshly, the ceramic bowl clunking loudly on the polished wood.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I have never seen it that way. I do not kill unless they engage me. I have never considered myself scum. It is too bad you see it that way Jean. It is also too bad that if I was caught, you’d be at the gallows with me. Life is too short to care what authority decides is right. After all, you whites are doing exactly what I’m doing to my home country, to Bertholdt’s home country, to the American Indians, to the natives of Australia, to the Africans. Don’t you dare go and call me a thief and scum when your people commit genocide to entire nations.”

Awkward silence greets us once more. Jean plays with his rice sheepishly, shoulders slumped and mouth in a tight grim line. Good. Maybe now he’ll quit calling me mean names.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- forget it.” Jean grumbles. I nearly choke on my tea. Jean apologizing? Has hell frozen over?

“I forgive you pet. You need to learn to accept where you are. You said so yourself, you have no one. But if you stay, you’ll have me.” He slumps further. …probably not the best way to convince him to stay.

This night is the first time Jean has faced me while we slept. He’s always assumed his position of semi-fetal and facing the wall, and I usually face his back, making sure to completely glue myself to him. Tonight though, tonight Jean lays on his stomach facing me.

I am delirious with excitement. I know, it’s just sleeping positions, but Jean has been so cold and scornful to me that this tiny little victory makes me want to leap into the ocean and let the sirens or mermaids or whatever pull me down to my underwater grave.

I mimic his stance a stupid dopey smile on my face that he returns with pulled together brows and a double chin of disbelief. Blankets pulled over us Jean falls asleep almost instantly. I watch him till I too succumb to slumber.

* * *

 

It’s a fight trying to get Jean chained. It always is, but this time it seems he’s not fighting very hard. Just being very difficult, spitting French curses and trying to kick me.

I let him eat and change before this being that I woke up in a good mood with his face buried in my chest and clutching my night shirt very tightly. I am winning and I have never felt smugger. Levi did say I have the ability to wear down even the most stubborn of people.

Finally, both of us panting I get Jean chained and scurry a safe distance from him. “Please be good.”

“Peu import. J'ai une façon de sortir. Vous ne pouvez pas m'arrêter. Peut-être je vais rester, peut-être pas.” Jean retorts, he too looks smug. I’m a little worried, he’s saying something about ‘no’ or ‘won’t’. The first part sounded something like ‘not important’. I have no idea.

“Just behave. I’ll find you something nice!” I’m begging now, why must he be so difficult? None of my other pets ever fought so long. I am starting to regret this challenge. I miss that little Italian girl I had when I sailed under Ymir, Mina was such a doll. So obedient and cute. Like a little mouse, now I have a hot-tempered viper. No I think hawk fits him better, his features are sharp, his eyes are sharp, everything about him screams bird of prey.

He throws several pillows at me and I don’t bother dodging them. Sigh.

“Bye pet.”

Jean turns around and huffs like a child in time out.

* * *

 

I am unable to return to him till nearly night fall. They sky is starting to purple and already stars are peeking out from behind drifting clouds. The door is still locked, I feel bad as no one had been down to feed him. He’ll be hungry, good thing I brought a loaded tray. Not looking forward to his negativity though. He’s just lucky I hadn’t had time to eat either.

The door opens with a loud squeal, should probably fix that sooner or later. Later more likely. “Jean, I’m back. I brought food, I was so busy today, and you won’t _believe_ how many of my crew jumped ship! Even Franz and Hannah!” I’m too preoccupied with relocking the door and balancing the tray to hear any response. “I’ve been running around like a goose without a head, wait no- it’s a chicken without a head right?”

The silence is suspicious, is he asleep? “Jean? Have you heard me? I have food…” the curtains obscure his bed, must have pulled them around him to keep the cool breeze off him from the open window. Wait a minute, I didn’t leave the window open…

I quickly set the tray down and yank away the curtains, there’s movement and for a split second I believe its Jean, but it is not. It is little Filou attacking a tassel attached to a pillow many times his size.

Jean is not in his bed. The chain is unlocked with pins stuck in the locking mechanism. The window is open.

Jean is gone.

He has left me.

I feel such a deep rooted anger and sadness and betrayal. Hands shake while my center feels red hot.

Jean is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> You stop your noise [Jean]  
> Little demon. Monello was doing nothing to you [Jean]  
> Doesn't matter. I have a way I can get out. You can't stop me, maybe I'll stay away, maybe I won't. [Jean]
> 
> CORRECT ME IF I'M OFF/WRONG PLEASE
> 
> p.s. thank you all so much for the love, i love it and it boosts my ego so much.


	11. Wings Clipped, But Sill Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HE'S FREE!
> 
> HIS ASS HURTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, one of the scenes I had in my head that started this au!
> 
> Also, I can't remember whether or not Zackly is married, so if he is no change, if not he's lying. *shrugs*
> 
> p.s. I keep forgetting to mention I track fic: oceans away

Waiting for Marco to leave is agony.

I’m trying to make it easier for him to just leave, but that freckled asshole has to make everything difficult. Maybe I should just let him lock me up. No, that will cause suspicion. My plan can’t work if he gets extra eyes to watch me.

Waiting for the footsteps to fade and the noise to die down has me sweating as much as Bertholdt, I feel so goddamn jumpy like that Daz freak. Crazy Americans.

Finally, around eleven there is silence around the ship. I know it won’t last long, noon is only an hour away and people will be rushing everywhere for lunch, I need to make that deadline in order to blend in. I need that time to make sure no one sees me. Masilupatam is a French port, no one will glance twice at a white boy navigating the streets; they’ll assume I came from one of the French ships I know are down there.

The only kink in this plan is that Marco did not stop in a port, too dangerous, we’re in a small village not twenty minutes from the city. I’ll have to swim to shore and make my way undetected to the city.

It only takes me a few minutes to pick the stupid lock with the hair pins I’ve ‘borrowed’. I’ve been practicing every time Marco is gone for a significant period of time. I was ready to leave last port, but there was no one there who spoke my language and I would’ve stood out far too much.

It takes another few minutes to make the room ready for my departure, the window is locked, but it’s a simple latch. My heart is hammering against my ribs and I’m shaking in excitement and fear. Excitement to be free and fear of getting caught. I wait a bit, searching my line of sight for any on lookers and I throw some rope I ‘borrowed’ down, I don’t know how deep this place is and I don’t fancy breaking something so close to freedom.

Deep breath and I climb out the window and down the rope into the water with an almost silent _sploosh_. If anyone up top heard that, they’ll assume it to be some kind of marine life plunking its head out of the water or some shit.

The water is warm and I wish I had the leisure to just enjoy a nice swim, but there’s no telling when someone will notice my absence. The fact that the back end of the ship faces land is a god send, it will make it harder for anyone to see me while I swim for the dry sand.

Oh land if you weren’t so fucking nasty I’d kiss you. Four or five months (I’ve lost count) of nothing but rocking really upsets how I walk on solid ground, I keep expecting a wave to knock me over. Whelp, I have till the city to figure it out.

Someone must be looking out for me up there because I meet no one on my way and the (unfortunate) heat dries my clothes almost instantly, they still sag of dampness, but with how much I’m sweating from my escape and the heat, I don’t think anyone will notice I just swam half a mile. I’m tired and hungry too, I don’t have any money and I don’t think I can get away with swiping something from the heavily colored stalls that line the street I’m currently prowling.

Goddamn, Bertholdt wasn’t lying when he said India is beautiful. There’s color fucking everywhere and cows too, though I think these people worship them. I don’t even fucking know why, is it the same with Jews and pigs? I don’t fucking know. It’s kind of nice though, I wonder if I’ll offend anyone if I pet one?

A little urchin girl comes out of now where and rams into me, I feel her tiny hands dig into my pockets. _“Too bad little one, I have nothing but the clothes on my back.”_ She looks at me confused I just smile and laugh. Her face turns red and she dashes away, ramming into more people as she does. I silently wish her luck.

Yes I think I’ll keep to French here, maybe fake some shitty English if the need arises.

Damn the woman here are gorgeous, so much color and smells. I have the urge to sneeze every twenty feet. The men all look powerful, or weedy like Bertholdt. There’s a few men who fit the medium criteria and everyone is all smiles and smells and laughter. I like this place. Too bad I haven’t found a single French ship, they didn’t all leave already did they? I need to know what’s going on out there!

After dodging several people from Marco’s ship I recognized (including Bertholdt towing Reiner everywhere pointing at random shit) I finally find the harbor. God that took forever, the sky is just passed the midday mark.

Yes! There’s so many French ships! American and British too! Maybe they’ll know what’s going on back home! I stop many people leaving the French ships, _“Excuse me I was wondering-” “Can you tell me-” “Sir, what’s happening back in France?”_ but none pays me mind. By the time I find someone willing to talk it’s nearly three.

 _“Thank you! You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to find someone who will speak to me!”_ I shake the hands of a man who is obviously the captain or at least second mate to one of the dozens of ships moored here. He’s tall and broad like Reiner, almost white blond hair that looks as if he’s balding front to back with how much forehead is showing.

 _“It is because you look like a beggar and are in these barbarians clothes.”_ My brows pinch. Barbarians? They do not look like such to me, they look colorful and cultural. Whatever, that’s not important right now.

 _“Yes, well I’ve been stuck on this side of the world for months, this is the first time I’ve seen land in as many.”_ We are walking down towards a local tavern, or whatever these people call it here.

_“What can I tell a fine young lad like yourself? You seem so desperate, like you’ll do anything for it-”_

_“Yes, well I was wondering if you can tell me what is happening out west. France especially,”_ I cut him off, he’s giving off creeper vibes. Being polite for such long periods of time is starting to make my head hurt.

 _“Disease. Safer here, Commander Smith hasn’t let a single ship pass Africa without him knowing. A good thing too, these lands are rich in everything we westerners want, can’t let our profits die out, though it would make things easier.”_ He orders the local alcohol. I wave off his offer to buy me one, I don’t care much for beer. Give me a good glass of wine any day, don’t give a shit if it’s a woman’s drink.

 _“And France, I recently fled from home, I just want to know the state it is in.”_ I’m desperate now.

He shakes his head sadly and threads his fingers through his beard, _“Sorry kid, can’t tell you, haven’t seen France in over a year. Been out in New Orleans since the first whiff of sickness spread past Germany.”_

Sighing I stand to leave, but then I remember the conversation Ymir and Marco had about this Smith guy, so I sit back down. _“This Smith man. You said he’s responsible for the disease not coming this far. Can you tell me more of him?”_

 _“Depends, what do you want to know?”_ he orders another drink and I once more decline his offer to buy me one. _“We never introduced ourselves, how rude of me, I’m Captain Zackly.”_

 _“No fucking way! The Zackly?”_ I laugh and shake his hand again, I’m lying through my teeth I have no fucking clue who this guy is; never hurts to boost a big shot’s ego though. From the flash in his eye I know he knows I’m lying. _“Aaron Baptiste. Um, anything you got I guess, I’ve only ever heard of this Smith through passing.”_ I tried to choose the most common name out there, Aaron was the first name my brain shit out though.

“Why don’t we switch to English, no? My French is not so good.” Zackly says taking a big gulp from his drink. He’s suddenly very serious, I’m a little put off. “Listen Aaron, Commander Smith is a ruthless man willing to sacrifice his own men for the greater good. He’s elusive and cunning, no normal man can take him down. He’s not the only one out there patrolling the waters. I was doing it myself before my wife forced me to retire.”

What? Take him down? Why would I? I’m just curios? What the hell? “I am sorry?” I try and make my English sound shitty, it’s easier than I thought it would be, “My English, no good, I was only wandering who this man is. I hear him all the time.” It’s not hard to fake innocence when you really are innocent. “Take him down? I am confused.”

“Never you mind then. Just a warning.”

I leave before he offers me another drink. Someone must be after this Smith guy. Hm, not my problem.

I spend the rest of the day gathering as much information as I can, using a different shit name every time. I get much of the same answers as that Zackly guy gave me. I don’t know why, but this city doesn’t feel so cheery anymore, there are fake smiles plastered on nearly every face and it smells more like cow shit than food and perfume now. Maybe it’s because it’s nearly dinner time and therefore just another end of the day bullshit.

The sky is purpling when I start to panic. Shit shit shit. Marco has to know I’m gone by now! I’m sprinting toward the little village, dodging people from the village and Marco’s crew. I don’t see Marco, maybe he’s still off ship? Wishful thinking, he’ll be bringing me dinner right now.

It occurs to me as I dive in the water and start swimming toward the rope as fast as I can, that I can disappear here. I can leave this shitty pirate crew, blend into the large population and gain passage on anther ship bound for somewhere else. Far away from Marco and his pet bullshit.

My hand touches the rope, it’s still there, thank god. I hold onto it, catching my breath and thinking. I can. I can leave. But… Fuck! I don’t want to. I thud my head on the ship’s ass, goddammit. What has that freckled bastard done to me?

“Jean! I’m back!” OH FUCK. OH SHIT. UM UUMM. I climb up the rope like a madman, and haul my skinny ass through the window he’s at the first curtain, he’s seen me enter. Marco is breathing deeply and heavily, is it too late to jump back into the water? An angry flush hides his freckles. I casually shut and lock the window (my hands shake) and walk toward my bed, I just pass the table when he turns around slams the door shut (locking it) and violently shoves the sheer curtain in place. Food is on the table, my stomach growls.

“…” I want to say something, he’s so angry. Shit. He’s gonna kill me. I came back! Fucker, I could have easily not! I slowly peel off my soaked shirt and edge toward my clothes I left near my bed for this such purpose. He’s gone from my sight, but when he comes back he has that whipping stick. OH SHIT!

I’m backing away, “Marco- listen it’s not what you thin- hnk-!” I try to explain, but he grabs my neck and violently yanks me toward an ottoman he acquired recently. From Persia I think. He throws me on it, I’m protesting loudly, trying to get him to listen. Struggling with all my might, but Marco is bigger, stronger. I land with a painful _oof_ on my stomach, knees scrape against the floor. Ow. Shit.

I try to get back up but he slams his bare foot between my shoulder blades, pinning me to the furniture. I’m so fucking scared, what’s he gonna do to me? “Marco. Please liste-AH!” SHIT GODDAMN FUCK THAT FUCKING STUNG!

“Yī!” he yells, I can see him raise his arm again “Er!” and another strike hits me high on the ass, nearly hitting the tail bone. FUCK!

I try and reach back to stop the third strike on my ass, “Sān!” he doesn’t even try to lessen the blows, or try to move my flailing arms. Eventually he has to stop to pin my hands down with his free foot. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, I’m bawling, I’m pretty sure my ass is bleeding. “Liù!” Hands and arms sting like a bitch from trying to stop him, fingers are going numb from him standing on my wrists. “Jiǔ!” My pants are still wet and it makes each blow sting all the more.

“Shí!” it takes me ten blows to figure out he’s counting them. “Shíyī!” stop please stop!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please stop I-AH! Won’t do it aga-AINn!” he won’t stop, I’ve lost count and I’m just a sobbing mess.

“Shíwǔ!” it sounds like Marco is crying too. This one hits the top of my thighs. Christ I hope no one can hear this.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! S'il vous plaît, arrêtez de me frapper. Je vous promets que je ne vous quitterai jamais encore!” I’ve stopped struggling, it’s hard to breathe with my chest pressed harshly in the upholstery and his feet crushing me and my gross sobbing. _Please stop hitting me. I promise I won’t leave ever again._

“Shíjiǔ! Èrshí!” the weight is gone and through the blur of tears I see Marco fling the stick away and stomp toward the window.

I slide to the ground still crying like a baby, my ass and thighs burn like a mother fucker. Like someone set me on fire. He leaves me here for a long time. I just lay here, the cool wetness of my pants soothing me just slightly. Marco is moving around, any time the noise gets close my muscles lock as if anticipating another blow.

Filou tries to calm me by licking my face, but I think he’s just trying to lick the salt from my tears – the little shit. But it helps, I’ve stopped leaking and now only dry sob, breathing still hysterical and not yet back to normal. Stupid cat is trying to get me to play.

“Get away from him! He needs to learn!” Marco shouts, Filou turns and hisses at him (I get a face full of cat ass). I close my eyes tight and curl like I’m anticipating the boogie man when Marco’s slightly freckled hand scoops the hissing ball of fury that is my cat. Such a loyal thing.

“If only my pet showed me as much loyalty as you show him, little rascal.” Marco’s voice is soft. It doesn’t fit him tonight, he still sounds livid. Filou has ceased his anger and nuzzles Marco. The traitor.

There’s the sound of water being poured into a basin or something and Marco is back to my side. The salt on my pants are starting to make the welts sting more.

“Get up.” He doesn’t wait, he grabs my arm and yanks me up, I protest bottom stings more as burning muscles move. Marco drags me towards the door where a little wash basin sits with steaming water in it. It’s small, just barely enough for me to sit in, but deep enough to do so. Must be what they use to wash clothes. “Get in.”

“OW!” I cry out as Marco yanks my pants down, fabric scratching harshly on my abused bum. I don’t want him to push me in so I step in and quickly sit down wrapping skinny arms around skinny legs (have I always been this twiggy?), pain shoots up the spine – certain areas sting and burn more than others, must be because I was hit there more than twice. The near boiling water burns just as badly as the welts. I don’t say shit – afraid of what he might do if I complain.

He is far from gentle while scrubbing away the filth of the day. He mutters hissed words in Chinese. Hair feels sore as he roughly pulls at the roots, scrubbing blunt fingernails into my skull. A rough rag is harshly scrubbed till my everything is just as red as my butt. The splash Marco makes as he throws the rag into the water has me leaping up in fright.

“Clean yourself!” this has all happened in less than five minutes. Everything’s so fast I have little time to explain myself. Not that the bastard will let me, every time I open my mouth he spits Chinese at me. I try to stall, but he quickly tires of waiting and yanks me out of the bath, throwing a robe at me demanding I dry off and behave.

Whimpering at the pain in my backside Marco picks the tub up with ease and throws the soiled water out the window. He stomps toward me and I back up till I hit his navigation desk, he looks like mad dog. “Ma-Marco let me explain please!”

“Explain what exactly!?” Marco shouts a hand thrown in the air dramatically, “That you left me!?”

“I came back! I could have easily just left!” I scream at him, shit my arse hurts, it’s painful to stand, muscle bunch up causing welts to do so as well. “I had to know what’s going on back home!”

“And you couldn’t have asked me! I would have gotten the information you seek! You had no reason to leave this room!” he bellows.

“I haven’t fucking touched actual fucking dirt in over five mother fucking months you piece of SHIT! IS IT SO FUCKING BAD TO WANT TO STEP ON DRY FUCKING LAND? THAT WAS THE MOST FREEDOM I’VE HAD IN JUST AS LONG!” Fuck you. Fuck this. I knew I shouldn’t have some back. I knew this was going to happen.

“You could have asked me!” his voice is desperate, face twisted in anguish like he’s the one in physical pain. You little-

“I have asked – no begged – you at every port to let me out and you’ve said no. Would you have said yes this time?” it’s so strange to see that face on Marco. Like he’s been slapped.

“No.” he slumps staring at the floor. He does this weird thing where he rubs his index finger on his upper lip. He does it when he thinks he’s right, but isn’t sure if it’s true. “You would have left me.”

“And how do you know that? There are plenty of ships I could have joined on, but I came back.” I snarl. Goddamn, my ass is on fire. Please let that be water dripping down my crack.

“Why?”

Shit. I wasn’t expecting that question. It’s not a question I can answer because I don’t know. I roughly turn away staring at the new map Marco got off Hannah’s ship, not actually reading it, just taking in the sights as it were – and shrug.

I hear him sigh, I don’t stop pretending I’m reading a map. I just stare at the dark blue lines and the dark brown lettering and the light shade of tan and green that indicates blobs of land, the sky blue of the drawn ocean. Pshh, armature, I can do so much better.

I don’t expect Marco’s hand clasping my arm, “Come here. Let’s do something about that sore bum.”

The fight in me has worn thin, I wave his hand off me, but he is firm. He sits down on that shitty ottoman and drags me onto his lap after undoing the robe. I can feel a violent blush erupt from toes to hair. What the hell is he doing? There’s a cap being opened and the snap of a seal being broken, oh. Ointment. And Marco’s gonna put it… on… my… butt. Um. I don’t know how I feel about another man touching the butt out of healing and not sexually. It’s not like I can do it myself… Uh…

The first touch stings like I just sat on a hornets nest. “Ah.”

“Sorry.” Now you apologize shitty fucking slant eye. Well, his eyes aren’t all that slanty compared to other people of his race, so I’m not sure that insult works for him.

Jesus H. Christ it’s eternally embarrassing to have him massage my ass with oily smelly ointment. …feels good though. Most of the sting has died down, I have no idea what my backside looks like, and I don’t think I want to know. With how hard Marco whooped my ass, I don’t think it will look… pleasant. More like minced meat.

Shit I’m crying again. I can’t help it, even with Marco being gentle it still aches like a bitch. He doesn’t apologize again, he must not truly be sorry. He said I needed to learn, learn what exactly? That I can’t take a shit without out him watching? Fuck off. Go to your heathen hell.

“Come to bed pet.” Oh so I’m back to pet now am I? Whatever, I’m tired and Marco’s mattress is so soft and heavenly. I crawl into bed facing the wall. (He lost his privilege of seeing my handsome face) Marco seems to understand that because he sighs sadly and crawls in behind me. He doesn’t glue himself to me like usual, but turn his back to me.

I don’t know why that hurts as much as it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> One, Two, Three, Six, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Fifteen [Marco]  
> Nineteen, Twenty [Marco]
> 
> yep, his ass being whooped by emotionally scared Marco has been something I've been planning for days now.
> 
> I still have /the/ scene that started this all to write and I have no idea where to put it. *cries*


	12. A System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean being a cautious cheeky shit.
> 
> Marco's patience is beginning to crack ever so slightly.
> 
> Talking.

“Come to bed pet.” He comes willingly enough, limping but trying very hard not to. Those welts I gave him are deep and not likely to go away any time soon. Let that be a reminder of what happens when you disobey a direct order Jean.

I’ll have to devise a punishment system for him, it’s increasingly apparent that one spanking isn’t gonna fix his attitude. Never before have I had to punish a pet as severely as I did to Jean. Twenty lashes. Unbelievable. He’ll learn, I’m sure of it.

* * *

Morning comes with an empty bed and the window is once again open.

I panic. Oh no! I bolt upright about ready to rip apart this room when the loud squeak from the door alerts me. It’s Jean sneaking back in, he sees me awake and hides behind the door.

“Where were you!” I shout, he cowers behind the door, but his eyes flame.

“Bathroom. Need your permission to shit now?” he answer is dripped with contempt. Oh, oh, yes, bathroom.

“Of course not.” I murmur. It’s not fair of me to always be accusing him. “Breakfast?”

“Sasha said no. She said we didn’t even eat dinner.” Jean inches back in the room deeming it safe from my wrath. He is being very polite, good. Maybe that beating did some good, but now I feel as if I’m back to square one with courting him.

Glancing at the table reveals food still piled on the trays. “Guess we’re having cold breakfast.” I slide off the bed and pad toward the food, Jean follows after I’ve already sat. He tries and hides a wince when he sits down, but I see it and don’t even feel bad.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The food is subpar, whether it’s because my mouth feels like ash or the food is cold I can’t tell which. Jean is having a hard time eating as well, but as far as I know he didn’t eat anything all day yesterday either. It’s hard to complain about the quality of food when you’re hungry.

“So. What did you find out yesterday?” I ask, hoping Jean isn’t too hostile for friendly conversation. He looks up at me questioningly. “When you escaped, you said you wanted to find out what’s happening. Well? What’s happening?”

“Oh.” Is this disappointment I sense? “Nothing we didn’t already know. Most everybody said the same thing. Though I did meet a man that said some interesting things about that Smith man.”

I lean forward, it has been very hard finding information on that man, and Jean got it just like that? “What did this man say? Did you catch the man’s name?”

He recoils slightly, more for personal space than disgust. “Yeah, he said his name was Zackly. Didn’t catch a first name, he was the first guy I was able get to talk to me. He said Smith was being targeted and he’s one of several people who are responsible for the disease not spreading past Europe.”

“So there’s more?” I’m asking myself more than Jean. It makes sense, I mean one man can’t possible scourer the entire ocean and land at the same time. The name Zackly is unfamiliar to me. I’ll have to inform Ymir and get more information from Levi.

Jean shrugs sipping cold tea, “Guess so.”

“I have to go out again today. Please don’t leave this room unless you are to get food or relieve yourself.” I try to make my voice small and pleading. “I don’t want to chain you again.” He snorts.

“I’ll come and go whenever the fuck I please asshole. You don’t own me.” He snarls.

I frown. “I should start spanking you more often.” I revel in how his face pales. “Keep up your attitude and I will. I know you didn’t like our session last night, I know I did. Finally got what was coming to you, you did. I open my arms to you, give you love and a home and you repay me most unkindly.” His face goes from pale to bright red. He literally shakes with anger, I wait for the explosion, but it doesn’t come.

Jean stands so fast he clenches his head, (he nearly tips the table over too) and storms off, when he reaches the door he turns back to me, eyes have this spark in them that sends pleasant chills up my spine, he opens and closes his mouth several times as if he’s going to say something but storms off instead.

So much for cooling his temper.

* * *

 

Jean spends the rest of the day avoiding me like the plague. He eats with my crew, forcefully laughing at Reiner’s silly attempts at humor and becoming engrossed in whatever Armin is so excited about while he viciously stabs his finger at something within the book he’s cradling. He’s even getting along pretty well with Eren. His gaze lingers a little too long on Mikasa for my taste.

Jean even has the audacity to leave the ship with Eren and Bertholdt. I could have sworn he gave me a ‘what are you gonna do about it’ smirk. Oh, he’ll pay for that. In the mean time I should speak with Levi before he heads out and does whatever he does when he leaves the ship.

I jump into the water and start swimming for shore after speaking with Levi about what Jean had learned. Levi had been insistent that he doesn’t know much about this Erwin Smith. Said he only just learned he made Commander. Then he listed off some names Jean had learned, Hanji Zoe, head of research; Mike Zacharias, Erwin’s right hand man; Keith Shadis, used to be navy but retired to cavalry also does training for future soldiers; Darius Zackly, recently retired General.

What where the odds of Jean meeting a retired General?

“I’ve been as much out of the loop as you have been brat.” He was folding clothes, looked like Eren’s and Armin’s from the size and the fact that Levi isn’t really into wearing bright colors.

“You’re not the type of man to not seek intel sir. I trust you’d tell me if whatever you find out is important enough to have a small time pirate like me aware of a situation.” I smiled and left him to his laundry.

It’s kinda lonely walking alone toward the city. I hadn’t wanted to wait for a lifeboat and at the time didn’t want the company; but know I kind of wish I had left with Reiner when he said he was going to go find Bertholdt. Or maybe Connie who said something about trying to find a decent cock fight. Don’t really see the appeal of setting to roosters against each other, seems kind of barbaric to me.

I end up just wandering around in circles. The market has so many delicious smells and pleasing sounds. I can almost get past the fact that I stepped in cow poop a little while ago. The cows that run the street aren’t so bad till they’re in your way and literally taking a dump on your shoes. Sigh, no I’m not being blessed or cursed by a damn cow, please just let me pass- sometimes I really hate India.

That is, until I spot Jean and Sasha walking arm in arm. Sasha is being her gay self, laughing and pointing at all the sights. Jean is being polite, rolling his eyes at her over enthusiasm. He looks really happy. Maybe I’ve been a little too hard on him. He is only asking for time on shore like everyone else, why deny him of such a simple pleasure Marco? He came back, and like he said he could have easily ran away. Eren said he’d stay put because it’s the best option for him.

I don’t know. I’m afraid. I really like him. Sure his attitude and pessimistic views are less than desirable, but he’s also so sweet and talented and handsome and we can be in a deep conversation for hours. It’s been so long since I’ve had a companion with those qualities.

Like a creepy stalker I end up following them.

Sasha finds Connie and ditches Jean. He waves good bye as she gallops away, and turns around to wander through the streets like I was previously. It’s strange. He’s not really looking for anything, but rather looking _at_ everything. Jean constantly stops merchants asking questions I’m a little too far to hear. Some get angry that he doesn’t have any money, others welcome his questions.

He’s looking at art mostly. Particularly painting and drawings. There isn’t much here, but what there are, are very colorful and beautiful.

I’m getting bored with stalking, I’m going to join his explorations.

He’s bent over a rug, royal blue with gaudy orange designs. Jean is touching it, brows furrowed. “What are you looking at?”

He spasms, “Christ! Quit fucking doing that!”

“Sorry I can’t help it. You looked so, what’s the word- like really hard or concentrating?”

“Intense?” he’s moving on and I follow close beside him.

“Yes, that’s the word.” He sighs like his mother just told him to watch his baby brother. Haha, been there.

I spend the rest of the day bothering him as he explores the town. He ends up guilt tripping me into buying him oil paints and some canvas. I couldn’t help it, he gave me this cute little puppy dog look. How can I deny my pet that much when this is the only thing he’s ever asked of me? Besides, maybe it will keep him onboard if he’s preoccupied with his hobby.

The first thing he does when we get back to my room is shove all his new art stuff in the secret cubby hole under all those pillows. Huh, didn’t think he’d find that one.

We eat dinner separately, he still hasn’t forgiven me for that spanking. Probably won’t till it stops hurting to sit down. At least it’s a lesson he’s not soon to forget. Speaking of lessons, I still have that punishment regiment to make.

* * *

 

“I’ve decided.” I announce, it’s late in the evening and Sasha has punished us both with no dinner, she takes food waste personally. Jean is snooping around the bookshelf again looking for some decent reading material I assume. He makes a noise like he’s listening and turns around holding a heavy tomb. Tawny eyes widen when he spots the whipping stick I hold, he backs up till his back hits the shelves.

“I didn’t do anything!” he shrills. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Every week I will bend you over that ottoman,” I point to said furniture with the stick, “and strike you however many strikes you earned during the week; until such time as you learn to behave yourself.” I flick the tip of the stick at him, accidently hitting the tip of his nose. Oops, sorry love.

“Excuse me?” he rubs his nose while I apologize for that.

“Oh it’s very simple.” I strike grand poses and walk around like some excited professor explaining the cosmos, “Ten lashes for every time you leave without my knowledge, one for each time you are unreasonably rude to someone, five lashes for being destructive and two more for every minute you try and escape the lashings.” I turn to him and find his face in a strange combination of ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ and ‘that’s so unfair!’ I feel more and more like his mother every day (I shudder at the thought). “Understand? You see it’s much more convenient to tally all your misbehaving’s up and just administer the punishment at the end of the week rather than to do it every day.”

“Yeah no. That’s a sure way for me to leave and never return again.” Jean turns away and begins to shuffle through the tomb.

“That’s just too bad.” I swat him a good one and he yowls and drops the tomb. “I’ve already decided. You will stay with me and suffer your punishments like a man, or run like a coward.”

“Fuck you.” I leave him to his sore bum and dropped book.

“One.” I put the stick away. Geeze, just started and he already has one tally. Honestly, if he keeps this up he’ll have way more than twenty by the time seven days are up. Probably should bolt some rings to the floor because he’s not going to sit still for this, might have to tie him down.

And to think the time I would be tying Jean down it would be because we’re exploring fun intimate activities. Sigh. A man can dream.

“Come cuddle with me Jean.” I’m pulling out blankets and some work I’ve been neglecting (Jean is a full time job apparently). Jean rests his sharp chin on his shoulder he’s looking so far back.

“Why? You hit me. I ain’t giving you shit.” He places the tomb on the floor next to his feet and browses the shelves.

“Because I asked you nicely.” I say tossing the blankets into the pillow pit.

“I didn’t hear a please.” Okay, now he’s just being a jerk.

“Please pet? Maybe I’ll return you that favor I owe you.” Please say yes. I really want to do that favor.

“You owe me a favor? Since when?” Jean has picked a scroll and is carefully unraveling. “Shit, sorry. Oops.” The scroll falls apart in his hands.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just some old math writings, I only kept it because it was rumored to be a rescue from the Alexandrian Library.” I help him pick up the pieces of parchment. I lean toward him till my lips just brush his ear, “When you helped with my frustration the other day.”

Jean’s face flames several shades of crimson at once. “O-oh? And why would you do that? I’m not a sex fiend like you, don’t get frustrated all the time.”

You little liar. “You know, I think you’re so angry all the time is because you don’t get, how you say... um laid very often. Is it laid? That sounds strange…”

“Yes it’s laid. And no it’s not because of that. It’s because I have the unfortunate fate of being stuck with people I wouldn’t touch even if I had a ten foot pole.” He stands too fast again, he needs to lean on the shelf to stabilize his equilibrium.

Rude. Not rude enough to add a lash though.

“Besides, what would you even do? Rub me off? Stick it in my butt? No thanks I get along with my hand just fine. Don’t need a queer pirate.” What’s ‘it’? And why would I- oh he means my- oh! Well yeah, eventually. That kinda how sex between men work.

“There’s lots of things I can do. With my hand. My mouth. I don’t think you’re plaint enough for me to go so far. You’re so fearful of human contact, you’ll hurt yourself if we try that now.” At least he doesn’t mind me petting him still. I’m still crouched so I’m petting his thigh, but the point is, is he’s not trying to kick me or run away for touching his person.

There’s that blush again. “I don’t expect you to even want to pleasure me.”

Huh? What’s this? Insecurity? He moves away from my touch, putting the tomb back on the shelf, I stand watching him intently as he wanders back to the locked drawer of my main desk. “Come cuddle me Jean. Leave the desk for the morning. We’ll be setting off then, everyone will be busy dragging mates back here. Come rest.” I beckon him over.

He shrugs and begins to undress, I watch him a little confused to what he is doing. Is he going to take me up for my offer? I hope so- no he is only changing into sleep clothes. Jean is quick about it, after all I am staring at him. His bum and thighs still present long horizontal angry red lines. Some lashings did break skin, but did not bleed. Like a cat scratch almost.

He’s too slow to bed so I drag him down with me. He grumbles and kicks and mutters curses as I situate us into a more comfortable position. Still not rude enough for a lashing.

“How come you don’t have any of your other pets still?” Jean has cocooned himself, laying on his back and trying very hard not to touch me. Meany. I have papers and maps and junk all over my lap and half of his, scribbling away and trying to ignore Jean’s annoying questions. But this question is a serious one, (well more serious thank ‘How many times are you supposed to shit weekly?’)

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you go on and on about you ‘other pets’. Where are they?”

“Well it depends, which ones? Some were gifts, some were prizes like you, others were just passing phases; but most moved on, or I just got bored with them.” Jean snorts.

“When will you get bored of me so I can move on?” he sighs wistfully. Meany. “All of them I guess. I’m not tired and I want a story.” He pouts. Actually, I’m not sure that’s the right word for it, but it’s as close as I can think of. It doesn’t help that he juts his bottom lip out and hugs a pillow.

“Well, my first pet was a gift given to me by Ymir. You see, I use to sail with her before I got my own crew. She was roughly fond of me in her own way and for my loyalty she granted me a pet. I can’t remember her name but she was so beautiful with such dark skin I thought she was an African. Ymir told me she was an aborigine, a native of Australia. She didn’t speak Chinese and I was only just learning English, we had a language barrier.” I sigh. She was my first in most everything.

“Wait, you sailed with Ymir?” I nod, so glad he’s actually listening.

“Yes, she actually was going to sell me, but I managed to get on her good side.” There are days when I wake up in fright that I wish she had sold me. The things she did to me… not tonight Marco, Jean is watching.

“What?”

“She attacked the village I was visiting and I happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. There aren’t very many Chinese boys with freckles you know. I caught her eye is all.” Jean hums resting his chin on his elbow. Please move on Jean. I don’t want to talk about this.

“So about the black girl? How’d she get away from you?”

“She taught me English. How to pleasure a woman. She taught me dangerous plants and animals, which are safe to eat and which are not. I really miss her.” She really was wonderful, I feel bad that I can’t remember her name.

“Yeah don’t care. How’d she get away from you?”

“Don’t bother getting any ideas, but one night I woke up and she was gone. No one saw her leave, the creepy thing is we were in the middle of the Atlantic.” I shrug. I suspect Ymir had something to do with it though.

“Maybe she was a ghost.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with having lost my purity to a ghost.” I laugh, that’s silly.

“I think you mean virginity.” Jean comments. “You know, when you have sex for the first time?”

“I know what it means Jean.” I scold. I’m not dumb, geeze. There’s a difference too you know.

“Still not tired. Tell me more of your shitty life.” Jean demands.

Okay, too many mean comments in one night. “Two.”

“Huh?”

So I tell him about all the pets I’ve ever had. About Mina and when she squirted it freaked me out. Thought she had peed on me. Jean laughs till he cries, come on it wasn’t that funny. About Manny, a Mexican man I had rescued from local authorities when I briefly visited Mexico (he had apparently was caught sleeping with another man). Beautiful country, beautiful people – never going back there again if I can help it. About this boy, and that girl, till I end up with Jean.

“You mean they all just disappeared? Not even a trace of them?” Jean sounds apprehensive.

“Yeah.” Well Mina told me she was leaving. And Manny had gone overboard during a cyclone, never found his body.

“At least now I know you got abandonment issues.” He turns around and throws the blankets over his head. Conversation over.

I go back to work.

Jean’s right. I do have issues. But at least I don’t run away from them like he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is going so slowly.


	13. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Marco's attire predicts the weather
> 
> SICK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why this took so long.
> 
> my sleep cycle is completely backwards, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get it back to normal.

Today is the day I open that damn desk. I’ve decided. It needs to be open, and now that I’m fairly good at picking locks I will do so… after breakfast.

“You’ve been staring at that drawer all morning.” Marco comments wiggling into ridiculously tight trousers. It looks like something circus people wear. “What’s your problem with it? Did you stub your toes on it? Been there.”

“Aren’t you even a little curious about that locked drawer?” I ask. How isn’t he? I’ve seen the way he snoops around, how isn’t he curious?

“I got it off a whaling ship, it’s probably letters or extra gross whale oil.” Okay, how is he able to bend over in those pants? I feel bad for his balls, damn that’s not healthy.

“Your genitals are suffocating.” Wait, wait no I got a better one, “If you fart, will your pants rip?” okay, yeah, that sounded better in my head.

“Pfft. No, there’s plenty of room up front and these are of sturdy material.” He puts on an equally tight shirt. Is he looking to stab people with his nipples now? This is just plain indecent. “I hadn’t realized you care so much about my man bits.”

“The king of England could get his dick cut off and balls smashed by cinder blocks and I’d still feel bad for the guy. Man code. Feel for each other’s bits.” Marco laughs, yeah that may have sounded a bit queer. “What the hell are you wearing?” good job changing the subject Jean. *heavy sarcasm*

“I feel good today. I want to look good as well. You are in a good mood too right Jean?”

I shrug. Guess so, I mean I don’t want to bash his face in, so I’d call that a good day.

Pillows get tossed out of my way as I dig into the pit to retrieve my new art shit. Man that felt good, having Marco cough up some money for me. Could get use to a technically rich guy like him. He’s a pirate though, so he could be dirt poor tomorrow for all I know. Then a sudden though occurs to me.

What happened to my stuff? Like my stuff I smuggled out of France with me? My most prized possessions? Things I couldn’t bear to part with?

“Marco?” he’s tying his shoes when he looks up at me. “Where are- what happened to my stuff?”

His black brows pull together. Oh no. “What stuff Jean?” I feel my heart plunge.

“My things. My possessions. They were in a bag, it’s all I had!” I’m hyperventilating now. I shouldn’t be a big deal, it’s just some clothes and some cheap art supplies. And a few family heirlooms I guess, nothing all that impressive, but it’s all I had! They were pieces of home.

“Hey, hey Jean calm down. It’s okay, ask Eren. I saw him come aboard with three bags that day, maybe he knew you were with us and grabbed it for you? Or ask Levi, he usually keeps tabs on these things.” Marco’s calm voice penetrates my panic. He rubs my shoulders, yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll go ask Eren right now.

Marco glances back every three steps as he makes his way across the room again. Your concern sickens me, stop (please don’t).

I take a few minutes to get myself back together, then get dressed for the day. The open window let’s in warm humid air, ick. I like to drink my water not breathe it thank you very little. I would love to not wear a shirt, but I don’t fancy becoming a lobster. It’s times like tropical climates I wish I had darker skin like Connie or Bertholdt.

The wind has picked up slightly, the small life boats that carried people to and from land bob dangerously as they try and make it safely back on deck. It’s amusing watching them struggle to keep the boat upright, hope they can swim.

“Shì měi gèrén?” Marco’s voice shouts over the wind. I have a bad feeling about this. He’s leaned over the railing shouting at the dark haired people hooking the pulley system to get the boat back on the ship. People keep glancing at Marco worriedly, I don’t blame him those clothes are tight and Marco is leaning out dangerously far, just need a strong enough wind to knock him over. They’re glancing at me with the same look, only there’s something a tad bit different. Pity. Hah?

I spot Reiner jog over and quite literally grab Marco by the waist and haul his ass in the air and drop him back on the now wobbling deck. Marco loses balance and falls on his ass, a disgruntled look written all over him. What’s going on? Reiner is now helping pull over the boat, Connie sprints over and help people onto the deck.

Something isn’t right. I can’t place it. Marco is the only one who doesn’t seem to catch onto the mood.

I push those thoughts away. Need to find Eren. Need to find Levi. Well, neither of them are on deck, maybe below? Ugh, I was just down there.

Below is a flurry of activity. Many of the unnamed Chinese crew are triple checking canons, pulling on the ropes that keep them in place. A few other nameless people I can only place by face are muttering prayers. What the fucking hell has gotten into everyone? I can’t even get Levi or Sasha to look at me. They’re going back and forth between the kitchen and the pantry yelling orders to kitchens hands and shoving food into safe places.

Even Eren and Armin look nervous.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask, finally pinning the two down.

“There’s a storm coming.” Armin answers tying books into oil cloth. Eren is doing the same with medical herbs.

“Storm? There isn’t a cloud in the sky, the air feels fine.” Armin scurries to help Eren while Eren abandons whatever he was doing to face me.

“The older crew said anytime Marco wore that outfit a major bad storm hit. I didn’t believe it, but the wind didn’t pick up till Marco came on deck. Even Levi and Mikasa are freaking out.” Eren gets shoved out of the way by Armin.

“That’s just ridiculous.” I know sailors are superstitious, but come on. A storm caused by Marco wearing a scandalous outfit? Really?

“Right?” Eren laughs humorlessly.

“Better safe than sorry anyway.” Armin throws in.

“What do you want, we’re busy.” Eren growls. The ship is starting to pitch to the point where we’re having a hard time keeping balance.

“My things. Did you grab them? Marco said to ask you.”

“Things? What things?” he’s padding a wooden box with some old cloth and carefully settling glass jars full of medical mumbo jumbo in it. Levi scrambles in.

“The things from home.” Eren looks up, eyes soft. Don’t look at me like that fucker.

“Yeah, I grabbed them. Hold on.” He turns toward Levi whose locking drawers. “Levi, I need to get something for Jean, take over, just the jars need packing.” He grabs my arm and forces me to sprint out the door.

Probably a good idea with the murderous look he gave Eren. Eren’s quarters is actually right next to the medical room, not all that surprising since he’s been actually studying to be one. A doctor I mean. Doing pretty good, though his bed side manner is something to be desired. I’m not at all surprised to see Eren’s room to be a mess, but there’s an organization to it of some sort.

Who cares, where’s my stuff Jaeger?

Said asshole digs into a trunk and pulls out a familiar bag that makes me want to cry in relief. “Why didn’t you give me this sooner?” I snarl, hoping to god I don’t have stupid tears in my eyes.

The bastard shrugs, “You never asked.” Listen hear you little shit. I’m about to turn away when he grabs my arm, crushing it in his strong grip. Fuck that smarts, was Eren always this strong? “I want you to stay on this ship Jean. Stay with Marco.”

I try and shake him off, he’s not the boss of me. I do what I want when I want. The fuck does he think he is? Sigh. “Don’t worry about it Eren. Where would I go?” his grip loosens enough for me to wiggle out. What’s up with everyone manhandling me?

“I just want to warn you Kirschtien, I’ve heard rumors that Marco’s pets seem to mysteriously disappear when things get strained. You two have been strained since day one. I don’t know if Marco is the one to get rid of unwanted toys, or someone- thing else. Just be careful.” Eren has this, this look in his eyes. I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like haunting. Like he’s seeing the future, a horrid future with gore and war and all that bullshit. It’s freaking me out, I feel goose bumps erupt all over my body.

I don’t know what to say, so I just turn and leave with a nod I hope conveys to a ‘thanks, but your concern is unneeded’.

The wind is still howling and the crew is still preparing for a none existent storm while Marco bellows orders to shove off completely oblivious to the fear in most everyone’s eyes. I’ll come up and help later after I’ve gone through my things, hopefully nothing is missing. I doubt it as I didn’t take anything out of it, unless it was clothes. And Eren is man who values privacy, or at least doesn’t go snooping in other people’s things.

I up-end the bag onto the floor as soon as I shut the door – crumpled paper, old socks, old ink bottles (a miracle they didn’t spill everywhere), and clothes spill out with thumps and flumps. I make sure the papers aren’t important before throwing them in the trash. Empty ink bottles and broken quills and drawing utensils receive the same treatment. The clothes I’m more careful with.

I fold my vests and shirts and pants, roll up socks and underwear (how I’ve missed them) and shove them back into the bag and toss the bag onto my bed to deal with later, they’ll probably need washing. The brown envelope at the bottom of the junk pile catches my eye. I’ve forgotten all about this.

It’s full of letters and old family photos. Things that would be lost forever in a fire. Marbles roll away from my pile of junk as the ship violently pitches sideways throwing me to the ground. Ow, shit my funny bone. The package slides under Marco’s bed, whatever, it’s safe enough there. The ocean spray is soaking the curtains to I stumble over to close and lack the window.

“Jean!” Marco barrels in (more like falls in) “Oh thank gods, we need as many hands up top as possible. Come on!” he grabs my arm and sprints us both out, the door slams closed behind us.

Turns out, the fabled storm came true. I can no longer see land and the sky is black as night, no sunlight penetrates the thick clouds. I was literally out here only five minutes ago! The wind whips anything and anyone not tied down off the ship, waves pour over the deck like an over flowing bathtub. All this chaos and the rains haven’t even started yet.

“This storm came out of nowhere!” Marco screams over the howling wind. “It has blown us way of course, and we can’t find any land, we’ll have to power through!” Marco grabs both shoulders and turns me to face him. “Please, stay safe, I’ve lost one pet to a storm I don’t want to lose another.” He sounds so desperate and miserable that all I can do is nod before he shoves off toward the helm.

Languages from all over the world are screamed above the howling and roaring of violent nature, I can only pick up bits and pieces, Eren yelling something about a snapped line in German, Mikasa shouting unrecognizable Japanese. But my ears always seem to be able to pick up the loud Chinese of Marco’s voice. I have no idea what he’s screaming, but somehow I do.

Orders are shouted from everyone, during a storm there is no Captain, no bosun, no cook or navigator, just another sailor praying to whatever god out there for this storm to pass with minimal casualties.

I’ve never been in a storm this bad before. The rains started hours ago and only seem to get harder as the hours pass. I’ve lost count of how many people have disappeared, how many ropes snapped, how many gallons of water has been dumped on me from above and below. I’m exhausted and cold, fingers are blue and I’ve lost feeling in my toes.

Bertholdt is being carried below by Reiner, blood drips heavily from the dark skinned boy. I saw it happened, one of the snapped lines had a pulley attached to it and Bertholdt had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. It swiped him hard across the chest, amazingly he carried on till he passed out, most likely of blood loss. I don’t know him much, but please be okay.

Levi has stayed up top, fixing lines and mending shredded sails only his small stature can accomplish, I’ve been worried he’d be blown away with how small he is, must be heavier than he looks. Connie is up there doing the same. They’re both swinging back and forth across the length of the ship like monkeys.

I don’t see the wave till it crashes into my back, the ship has pitched over so much I’m sliding at a rapid rate to the opposite railing. Shit shit, if I go overboard it’s all over. My back hits the detailed railing hard, fuck, the breath is knocked out of me and the force of my fall has the wood splintering. Oh fuck.

With a loud crack I fall. “I got ya buddy.” My arm jerks up violently and I feel something pop deep in my shoulder. It hurts like a mother fucker. It’s Connie, he’s got Reiner and his gorilla arms holding his waist that effortlessly lifts us both back on deck.

“Thanks, thought I was a goner.” There’s no time for any more words as we split up and take up jobs to do. Reiner helping with the injured and heavy lifting, Connie limberly climbing back up top, and me to help Mikasa fold up those sails. My shoulder is on fire, numbness has taken over my arm. Shit, please don’t be broken.

* * *

 

The storm went on for three days. Three straight days of no sleep, no eating, no rest or leisure of any kind. Three straight days of my shoulder on fire and watching fellow crew members die or disappear. I’m exhausted and soaked to the very soul. It’s still pouring but now the waves have calmed and even a little sunlight peeks through the near black clouds.

It better not be the eye of the storm or I swear to god.

I mean, I think it’s been three days. Could be a week for all I know. Certainly feels like it.

“Jean! Jean!” it’s Marco.

“Shhhhut up.” God my head hurts. Thought I was over that. There’s now an unhealed scar there and it doesn’t bleed anymore. Yippee. The sarcasm is heavy today.

“Jean!” his voice sounds less panicked and happier when he spots me. He gives me a bone crushing hug, I can literally feel and hear my shoulder socket grind.

“OW! Let go let go!” Marco drops me like hot coals.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong!?” god he doesn’t even look exhausted. Shit, I must look like hell.

“Nothing, just my shoulder hurts.” Marco hums and prods said shoulder. Ouch.

“I’m going to go get someone, don’t move please.” Where am I going to go other than to bed? Shit sleeping for a month sounds like heaven right about now. But yeah, I should probably get this checked out before any more time goes by.

It’s Eren who jogs over with Marco. He’s got dark bags hanging under his eyes, blood stains his white shirt that I’m one hundred percent positive isn’t his but at least a dozen others’. “Let’s see the shoulder Jean.” Fuck he sounds worse than hell.

Marco has to help me peel the damn thing off, thank god I’ve been sitting near the fire in the kitchen with those who can still move otherwise my shirt would still be clinging to me like tree sap. Shirtless reveals a bruise deep purple-almost black with green, yellow, and red edges taking over my shoulder like some sort of rash.

“That doesn’t look good.” Eren comments. You don’t say? I could’ve fucking told you that doc.

Eren presses cold fingers deep into the bruise. “Fuck! Shit! Ow! Jaeger quit! That fucking hurts asshole!”

He ignores me, “How long has this been here?”

“Since the first day, heard something pop when Connie grabbed me from falling into the water.” I explain. He nods and puts a soaked boot on my equally soaked thigh. Excuse me? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Eren grabs my injured arm (pretend I didn’t start to cry) and holds it up, my arm is shaking with pain. Marco sooths me, at least he tries.

“Good news is it’s just dislocated. Bad news this is gonna hurt and I’m going to enjoy this.” Eren fucking Jaeger, the bane of my existence yanks on the arm till I’m crying out in agony and a loud grinding pop is heard. “Sorry, first time I’ve done that, seen dad do it lots of times though. Did it go back?”

I nod weakly, Marco fucking holds me as I whimper like a pitiful child.

“Come on pet, let’s get you some hot soup, some dry clothes and a nice long cuddle session in bed, yeah?” I nod again. That sounds so fucking wonderful right now. …still dislike you though. “Fā yīxiē Sàshā de tāng wǒ de sùshè, bìngqiě yào kuàile. Qǐng.” Marco says over my shoulder as he guides me out of the kitchen and down the stairs to his quarters. I think I heard Sasha’s name and the word please somewhere in there.

It’s not till Marco makes sure I’m in warm dry clothes and covered head to toe in heavy blankets that I remember the drawer. Man, I was supposed to finally open that. Damn.

I feel all hot and sweaty.

Marco places a bowl of some hot soup in my hands. “Come on pet, eat this.” Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah food. Aw man it’s good too. All chunky with potatoes and carrots and meat and I don’t know what that green stuff is but it’s fucking fantastic.

Shit, everything so swirly, like looking through stained glass.

“Jean?” I feel a large hand on my forehead. “Oh dear. You have fever. Finish your soup pet, yes that’s it. One more bite, there you go.” I don’t remember eating, that’s strange. Why is it so cold all of the sudden?

“Marcooooo it’s coooold and I’m all sweatyyyy.” Is it possible to be cold and hot at the same time? I feel nauseous. And thirsty. Can Marco read minds? ‘Cause there’s a glass of really cold water put to my lips.

“I know, come on, drink up.” Why is Marco so gentle? You’re a pirate dammit, be mean. Lock me in the brig. Hold me down and fuck me till I can’t stand- haha _whoa there_ , where’d that come from? I think I’m laughing ‘cause Marco’s giving me a weird look. That’s so silly, as if I’d want that… haha... ha… hmmm…

“Okay, sleepy time now Jean.” Marco says tucking me in.

“Noooooooooooo. I’m not tiiireeeed.”

“Nǐ shì yīgè háizi?” he’s said that to me before, or someting similar. He’s insulting me! That bastard- “Finally.” Is the last conscious words I hear for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Is that everyone? [Marco]  
> Send some of Sasha's soup to my quarters, and be quick about it. Please. [Marco]  
> Are you a child? [Marco]


	14. Dingy Days and Master Chang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHA
> 
> I honestly never planned this, but one night I was sleepy and I couldn't go to sleep so I started imagining this story as a movie thing and BAM RIGHT IN THE OTP MUST DO'S
> 
> I have a thing for otp bath scenes I guess.
> 
> he dies
> 
>  
> 
> jk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, FOR THOSE NEWBIE READERS AND OLD READER SLIGHTLY CONFUSED PLEASE READ THIS: originally this chapter was two chapters but I decided that one long chapter was better than chopping it in half after both chapters were posted. nothing has changed I merely copy and pasted chapter 17 to the end of chapter 16 and then deleted chapter 16 (now chapter 16 is 15 due to the deletion of chapter 8). I have done the same to chapters 7 & 8, now just chapter 7. so now there is only 15 chapters instead of the original 17. sorry for the confusion.
> 
> I hope this made sense.
> 
> (also these chapters have been revised, so if you read this before March 2015 then some things in chapters may be a bit different but only by like 2 or 3 sentences. I only did this to fix major plot holes and I fucked up some things)

I’m worried.

It’s been two days and Jean is still running a very high fever. Rough painful sounding coughing started the morning after the storm. Anytime he’s awake, he’s not himself. Loopy, Armin had put it. He won’t eat, he won’t drink, he complains of pain in the chest. He’s confused and delusional at best. I’m so scared, I’ve never lost a pet to sickness. Please don’t be the first.

Eren doesn’t have anything for him, pneumonia just doesn’t go away; it needs time and patience and prayer. I can’t even comfort him in my way, I could catch it if I’m not careful. Rest and clean air is all we can really do. Eren and Levi have been researching and have found some common remedies, but Eren said it’s a long shot.

“I’ve seen this a lot on the travels I went with my father.” Eren says taking Jean’s pulse for the third time today. He comes in every meal time to check up on him. “It never looks good, some people pull through, most don’t.” Eren has to stop speaking because Jean wakes up to a coughing fit. “Just keep him in bed.”

He leaves me to feed Jean who’s looking at me through watery eyes. “I don’t feel good.” He croaks.

“You have pneumonia Jean.” I tell him. I’ve told him so many times I’ve lost count.

“That sucks. Dad had it when he was a kid.” He croaks so many times I’ve lost count. It’s a cycle we’ve been repeating for two days. I don’t know if it’s the fever or the pain that’s confusing him so much.

“Eat this Jean.” It’s Sasha’s soup he loves so much. It’s the only thing I can force him to eat. He looks at me with clearer eyes.

“Pneumonia?” he asks.

“Yes. Eren told me to keep you in bed. Please eat this.” I plead. He nods and sits up, motioning for the bowl. I give it to him and he eats it slowly. “We don’t have any opium or Soothing Syrup on board, we’re trying to find a port that does. Eren says it will help the coughing.”

“Okay.” This is the most coherent Jean has been in a long time. I’ll milk it for everything he’s got. “I can’t eat anymore.”

“Yes you can.”

“No. I’ll vomit.” He sighs and hands me back the bowl. Levi said it was a symptom. He leans back till his head quietly thumps on the headboard. “I’ve had pneumonia before.”

“You have?”

“Mhmm.” He sounds so tired. The deep breath he takes turns into another coughing fit. It’s awful sounding, wet and thick. “Played outside in the rain, maman told me not too.”

“You should have listened to your mother.” I hold his clammy hand. His fingers are a blue-ish hue, his veins show up more clearly, making his skin almost blue in appearance. I rub them trying to make them warm.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just need rest.” He says staring at the way I kneed his hands in my own. “’S’not a big deal. Really.”

Yes it is Jean. It’s a huge deal. You were a child when you got sick. You’re full grown now. There’s a difference.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles freckles if ya keep worryin’.” Jean’s head flops over to look at me, there’s a strange grin placed there. “Freckles disappear into wrinkles. Freckles like stars on yo face. Pfft haha.” Laughing violently morphs into hacking.

What? I don’t understand… his cognitive abilities must be messed up again. “I’m tired and bored.” He whines slumping till he’s flat. It doesn’t take long before he’s snoring softly, there’s a wheeze to each breath he takes.

I’m so worried.

* * *

 

Me and Jean are swimming. The ocean waters are still as death. He’s laughing for some reason, but I don’t seem to notice there’s nothing to laugh at as I laugh with him. He dives underwater, not a ripple emerges as he does, he just disappears, but I’m not worried.

The water is so clean and clear you can see all the way down to the white sand so far below me. Not a single life form swims or crawls anywhere within my sight. Not even Jean.

Light ripples lap against me and I turn to see my ship gently bobbing in nonexistent waves. My crew lean over the railing waving and shouting with big grins and laughter. Even though it will only take a few strong strokes to touch the hull, I cannot really hear nor understand what they are shouting so happily about. It’s more like echoes.

I feel something bump against my legs, it must be Jean trying to scare me. There’s several more brushings, each time I turn to try and grab him, but he’s never where I turn. Treading water is becoming difficult. “Jean!” I laugh, I’m starting to feel uneasy as I don’t see him and my crew has suddenly gone quiet, staring at us with blank eyes.

Long fingers caress my back and I try to laugh off my discomfort, they’re Jean’s fingers, but they don’t feel like Jean. They’re cold, clammy, kinda slimy – like he dipped his hands in fat. I twist toward the hand and gasp. It’s Jean alright, but the pretty peachy-pale of his skin is shallow and grey like sludge, his cocky smirk doesn’t house straight white rows of teeth but ugly grey and yellow sharp buds. His mousy hair stuck somewhere between brown and blond is just as brown as Eren’s but holds none of the health. Jean looks like the very embodiment of death by sickness.

“What’s the matter Freckles?” greasy brows pull together in concern. His breath smells fowl, not like morning breath but more like the breath of a kraken. One thousand corpses escape with each of his words.

I paddle away backwards, heart hammering. He reaches out, black and sharp nails extending his reach. Jean’s face twists into ugly anger as he’s realized he's missed. He rises up and I catch each one of his ribs sticking out so harshly a bird could nest between each bone. That face is horrid, teeth bared so hard black blood drips from those brown and cracked lips.

He dives under the perfect water – I catch a glimpse of a putrid tail. It’s a sigh of relief. It’s not Jean. Jean doesn’t have a tail for legs. He’s fine. That’s not Jean.

…but then, what is it?

The ship is still silent, but now my crew have gaping holes for eyes, their mouth are agape. I paddle away from them. What’s going on? I’m scared. Ripples come from everywhere but there is no source to them. It’s getting harder and harder to stay afloat.

“Marco.” The voice is wet and raspy, like a drowned man. I don’t get to turn around as grey arms wrap around my torso and head and neck and stomach. Where are the extra hands coming from? “Come with me pet.” The wet voice says. I chance a glance at my captor. It’s the other Jean, I feel his slimy tail curl around my legs – he’s the only thing keeping me afloat. I want to vomit, the smell of everything putrid invades my senses.

I can feel those extra arms tighten, those arms are directly below his regular arms like how some of the Hindu gods are portrayed. “W-who are you? Where did you come from? What happened to my Jean? My crew? Where are we? How did I get here?”

“I’m hurt!” appendages tighten till I can barely breathe. “Don’t you recognize me pet?” we’re sinking. We’re sinking. We’re sinking. The water is to my nose and I have to force my head up to remain breathing, it just puts more pressure on the slimy arm pinning my neck, making it even harder to breathe.

“St-stop! Stop! I can’t breathe! I can’t brea-!” the calm clear water is suddenly raging and black. The salty water tastes fowl.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head.” He dives under with me clawing at those arms, but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. He won’t let go, I can’t breathe, I can’t see, everything is a haze of grey and black, like someone has pulled a veil over my eyes.

The Other Jean is laughing, I can feel his chest heave with the effort, like hacking coughing, like he just threw up a lung.

“MARCO!”

* * *

 

I wake with a start, Jean – the real Jean – has shouted my name. He’s coughing worse than before.

It was just a dream. God, of course it was just a dream. Jean an eel mermaid? Come on, get real.

I must have fallen asleep. I don’t remember doing that.

“Are you okay?” Jean’s amber eyes are watering from coughing and his voice is hoarse and out of breath.

“Yeah. Just a bad dream.” I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes. What a dream. It was so strange.

“I noticed.” His hair is greasy, he doesn’t hold the peach tone to his skin anymore. He’s pale as death, cheeks have sunken in giving him the look of a ghoul. It’s not in the least attractive.

We’re silent save for Jean’s wheezing breaths. We both stare into the shadows, listening to the muffled crashes and thuds of crew and water.

“I need to go up top for a while.” I say. He nods. “Will you be okay on your own?” He nods again.

“Can you get my stuff? Pencils ‘n stuff. Bag, envelope. Under the bed, fell.” I don’t see how he’ll be able to draw when he can barely hold a spoon.

“Of course.” I dig under the bed first, there’s a brown package by the head wall, “Is this it?”

“Yeah.” It’s lumpy, but light, must me pictures or something. Next I go to the pit and grab his bag and dig around till I find all his art things and bring them to him.

“There’s a tube here,” I point to it, situated just above our head. “I’ll be standing by the other end all day. If you need anything just talk into it.” He frowns, but nods. He knows he needs to stay in bed, regardless of how stir crazy he gets. “Get well.” I kiss his gross hair, a bath would do him good but I’m afraid of exposing him.

He bats me away in an irritated fashion. “I will.” He mutters some French that suspiciously sounds like ‘stupid’.

The sky still holds onto the storm’s clouds. There is no rain, but it has come and go at random intervals. Not a big deal, so long as the ocean behaves itself. It’s just a dingy day to fit with the dingy mood.

Bertholdt is still bedridden, a minor infection started in his wound, nothing Eren or Levi can’t fix. Several other crew members have also gotten sick with various strains of the flu or pneumonia. I care, just not enough to actually be exceedingly sad. They knew what they signed on for when they left land.

That sounded a bit calloused, I apologize.

Most everybody has exhausted their ability to care for the time being. Not that I blame them, but it’s been like two days. I’ll give them another day to rest before things have to start moving again.

“How is Jean, Captain?” Armin’s voice startles me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I was only how you say? Spacing? Spacing out?” Armin nods with a tiny smile. “Jean is… is doing good I suppose. He’s… coherent today. Not so loopy- as you put it. He even asked for his drawing pad.” I trail off. I don’t know if Jean is doing well or not. Sickness usually gets better before getting much worse.

“Jean is young and strong, he’ll be fine.” It sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself. Maybe if we say it enough times it will come true. Like a prayer.

…But a prayer only comes true when you act upon it.

“Is there anything you need Armin?” that dream still has me freaked. It’s just one of those visions that stick with you for a while. Wish it would hurry up and fade away already. I’m afraid to go and look out at the waters, afraid I’ll see eel-Jean or impossibly still waters.

“Not really. Eren has been too busy for conversation and Mikasa has been hovering over Eren begging him to rest. I just felt you were the next best conversational partner.” Armin admits with a shrug. In other words he’s bored.

I laugh a little. Mikasa really is too motherly for her own good, she’ll end up grey if she keeps it up. None of my business though. “How has Levi handled it? Having helping hands I mean?”

“Well… I think he’s grateful even though he complains practically non-stop of how messy Eren is or how much me or Mikasa get in his way. Eren doesn’t tighten this enough, or doesn’t clean efficiently enough, or he didn’t do it right.” A sigh, “I don’t like it. Eren has been more tired and twitchy because of that. I don’t think Levi realizes he’s severely hurting Eren’s self-esteem.”

“Maybe he’s hoping Eren will improve?” I add. Armin gives me a look of ‘I highly doubt it’.

“Chess?” he offers.

“Yeah.” Maybe it will help my mind ease to be destroyed by Armin’s higher intellect.

* * *

 

Yeah, no. Chess just made my head hurt and now I feel irritated. Oh well, I’m improving I guess.

I’m really bored with everything being so stand still. Normally I would relish in this with no immediate duties to attend to, but under the circumstances all this free time is depressing. Jean is a no go to play with, and everyone else is either avoiding me (why though?), bedridden, or busy with duties that don’t include sailing.

I find myself wandering down to sick bay. Well, might as well be a good captain and check on my crew. I feel bad for not caring. Normally I would, but this entire week has been so draining. I need a month of good long rest and enjoyment. A vacation is what I need.

Bertholdt makes good conversation, maybe he’ll be- no. I change my mind quickly at the sight of Reiner talking to Bertholdt. The boy has bandages wrapped firmly around his torso, they have small red spots where the wound is. I really don’t want to interrupt them as Reiner seems to be making progress with winning Bertholdt’s affections (though I am unsure whether or not that is the blond’s intentions).

They are sitting closely together, Reiner wears black bags under his eyes, the same as everyone else at the moment. I might too, I’ve been a bit afraid to look in the mirror. I’m sure I look just as bad as everyone else. He’s making the Hindi laugh a little, not too much to cause him discomfort though. Reiner has always been good at cheering people up.

Okay, let’s go pretend to do something else for a while. Maybe I’ll just go and bug Jean. Beg him to draw me or something. Make him take a bath with me. I have these soap salts that make the bath all bubbly, I bet Jean would enjoy that. I’ll make the water steamy hot so it will clear his sinuses and maybe even get him some honey tea to sooth his throat. Wait, do we even have any honey? I could wrap him up in my warmest fluffiest robes and give him all the cuddles-

Sigh. I can’t though. I could catch it from him. Me being sick won’t benefit either of us.

Maybe if I- “Marco! Come over here and make conversation with us!” all thoughts clear as I hear Reiner’s loud voice call me over. “Sir.” He adds when he spots my disapproving frown. Things may be lax on my ship but that doesn’t mean I don’t enforce my rule as Captain, no matter who you are I will provide punishment to those who defy the few absolute rules on this ship. (Reiner didn’t violate any, so no need to worry about the meat head).

Bertholdt smiles weakly, up close he’s unusually pale- sicklier than when I observed him from across the room. Reiner looks even more tired, eyes darker, face more… I don’t know droopy?

“You two should be resting.” I say as gently as I can. “Tomorrow I expect those who can stand to sail like a proper ship.”

“And those you can’t? Get up I mean.” Reiner says.

“Will stay in bed till such time as Levi, myself or Eren tells them otherwise.” I say with as much authority my tiredness allows. It seems to do the trick as they nod immediately. “So… how are… things?”

“Could be better. Could be worse. I could be outside without an infection. I could be dead.” Bertholdt shrugs. Well, he’s not wrong.

“Come on Bertl, Levi said the infection was minor and should be gone by morning. Just focus on healing and you’ll be fine.” Reiner’s inner mother rears its nurturing head. It’s Bertl now? Or is it just something only Reiner can call him? I do enjoy budding romances. You know if this really is a budding romance.

Bertholdt rolls his eyes. “How is Jean? I had heard he has a fever.”

“Yeah, same. Heard Levi muttering about not having any opium. Is it really that bad?” Reiner’s hand is awfully close to Bertholdt’s. Hmm... Wait what was that?

“Oh. Pneumonia. He has pneumonia. I don’t know honestly. I’ve never had it and I’ve never- this topic never actually comes up in an everyday conversation, so I don’t know much about it other than all the coughing and confusion, loss of appetite and… stuff.” I rub my nose, nervous. I really don’t want to talk about this.

“Oh. That’s bad.” Yeah, I know it’s bad Reiner. I don’t need your input.

“I should go and check with him by the way. I’ve been gone for a while, got to make sure he’s not out of bed.” I excuse myself. Why did I leave Jean in the first place? I mean, I know he’ll stay in bed, I just mean I just shouldn’t have left. Like, there was no point. There’s nothing to do.

My door is wide open, I can’t remember whether or not I left it that way. Maybe Jean just got up to go to the bathroom or someone dropped by for a visit. Why am I getting so worked up over an open door? I probably just carelessly left it open when I left. Nothing more… please don’t be another weird dream.

It’s not. Thank goodness. Jean is in bed hunched over his precious artist paper, occasionally stopping to look up and around the room. It’s how he spots me.

“You’re going to ruin it.”

“Are you drawing the room?” I ask. I haven’t seen a single doodle from him since I snuck up on him the first time. And I value him too much to betray his trust and peek into his sketch books.

“What the hell else am I supposed to draw?” he sounds irritated. “And before you ask. I don’t know where the damn cat is. Haven’t been able to find Filou since the storm.” Jean sniff and coughs. I know he’s worried about the little devil. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen a whisker from any of the felines.

“They must still be spooked about the storm. It’s still bad out there.” It’s the most logical explanation I can think of at the moment, but it seems to have eased him a bit.

I kneel beside him, resting my head in my folded arms after shutting the door. “If you get bored with inanimate objects, I will be more than willing to pose for you. In any fashion you desire.” Jean’s cheeks redden. It’s the most color he’s had in days.

“I-I’ll think about it.” He averts his eyes from me and back to the paper. I chuckle, peck his clammy cheek, and go to Jean’s bed to sleep. I’m exhausted.

* * *

 

I wake up with a start. Not like a scary dream start, but more like the stars have aligned start. An epiphany. Yeah, that’s better. I wake with a sudden epiphany that I have books on herbal remedies that could ease Jean. I feel like such an idiot.

My people have been curing these things for centuries with just a few plants. Duh. How could I have been so blind!?

Okay let’s see. Um. Shoot, I should probably wait till I’m fully awake to do this. Ugh, eye crusts.

So I take a few minute (an hour) to wake before making my rounds as captain. Everything is the same as yesterday. Gloomy and sad. But a few more people are up and about. Jean is asleep, drool covering the pillow (I don’t blame him since he can’t breathe through his nose) and pencil markings covering his hands and face. Okay, look like that bath is a must.

I inform Levi and Eren about my books while I’m going through them. I closed the bed curtains to save Jean some dignity, I mean he’s filthy. I find quite a few. Even some Japanese, but I don’t think anyone on board knows this particular language. Maybe Mikasa? I know she can speak some; but can she read it?

As much as I trust Levi to do this, I think I will get a professional medicine man at port. Armin has found our position last night when the clouds finally dispersed. We were blown way off course. Which to me is fine as we will make Rangoon by lunch. I would rather have my home country, but it is at least two weeks away and Jean, nor the others have that time.

Eren leaves with Levi, carrying a large stack of heavy books with him. I’ll see to it that Eren takes instruction with the medicine man I will hire. In the meantime I need to get Jean fed and awake.

Yanking the curtains away has him rolling away from the sudden light with a coughing groan. “Wake up Jean!” he groans and rubs his hands over his face, not yet alive to the world to realize he’s rubbing snot, drool, and pencil all over his face. Gross.

“Here pet, wash that face of yours.” I toss him a wet rag and he sets to it. Ends up blowing his nose into it. That’s going out the window. “Sasha came in with some miso soup. You’ll love it. Some ginger root tea too. It’s a bit bitter, but it will help.”

“I’m not hungry.” He whines stacking his things and haphazardly tossing them at the end of the bed. I’ll need to change the sheets, get some nice incense that will help clear his pathways, wash him.

“Yes you are. That’s the sickness talking.” I pour tea. “Please. For me?” Jean sighs and grabs the bowl and spoon.

While he eats I buzz around looking for warm clothing and clean blankets. “After you eat we’ll bathe. We will be in Rangoon soon where I will hire a medicine man. Eastern Medicine will do you good as the Westerners think depleting you of all your blood will heal you.”

“Sure whatever.” I can hear slurping and when I glance back Jean is just simply drinking it right from the bowl. Excellent. He even goes back and spoons all the vegetables into his mouth. Good boy. “This tea taste like shit.”

“Yeah, well we don’t have any honey or anything sweet to take the bitterness away.” I say. I don’t like it much either, but it will help many of his symptoms. “Give me a moment to change the sheets and we’ll go and get a hot bath.” Jean nods and slowly gets up and gingerly sits on the ottoman coughing as he does.

“Christ this is awful.” Jean comments.

“You sound better than yesterday.” Pillows get tossed into the corner along with blankets and, ew, old handkerchiefs. Gross, I’m feeling sick just cleaning up. I have to scoot the bed out a little to remove the sheets. “Jean be careful!” I warn as he makes his way to the window.

He snorts and unlatches the lock to let in fresh air. He really shouldn’t be out of bed. What if this makes things worse?

By the time I’ve finished putting on clean bedding and scooted the bed back against the wall, Jean is asleep on the window sill. Head pillowed on arms and sitting on the chair pulled from the desk there.

“Jean.” I shake his shoulder gently. His eyes blink open. “Come on, Levi will have a steamy bath waiting for us.” He grumbles but gets up anyway. “I could carry you?” I would love to, but please say no, your nose is dripping and you’re still drooling.

“I can walk myself.” He stretches, the strain it puts on his chest causing him to cough. It’s not till he’s practically out the door when he thanks me. “Thanks anyway though.” He’s blushing. This fever must have done something to him for him to be so nice to me all of the sudden.

I let him go. Need to get clothes out anyway. There’s still a chill in the air, but I don’t think it’s wise to break out the winter clothing. Actually, I don’t think I have any, I like the warmer weather so I tend to follow the warmer climates. Too many frozen toes and huddling against a sniffly sibling kinda turns off those fabled winter cuddles everyone loves so much.

Maybe I have some Mongolian coats that can serve, maybe just pile the blankets higher. Once Jean’s fever breaks I’ll be more than happy to keep him warm; for now socks, pants, and long sleeves will have to do.

I light some cleansing incense before I catch up with Jean. He’s only made it to the bathing doors about to slide them open when he sticks his tongue out at me. I don’t even know why.

We enter in a cloud of humid steam. I put our clothes on a bench and grab Jean’s sweaty hand to find our bath. We find it, a large metal tub in the very back of the room, there’s a stool with folded wash cloths, soaps, and that bubble salt I was thinking about yesterday. The water is steaming, Jean watches it mesmerized.

“Come on, undress and get in, you really need a bath.” I nudge him unbuttoning my own blouse.

“Are you saying I stink?” he pulls his tunic over his head.

“Yes, you do. And you have ink and lead all over you too.” Jean puts his hand to his chest in mock hurt.

I step in slowly as the water is very hot, I can already see my skin turn red it’s so hot. Feels good though. Jean eyes me in the tub, I’ve relaxed against the back knees bent and spread wait for Jean to take his seat.

“Come on in.” I tap the water between my legs, he still hesitates.

“But-”

“Just get in you big baby.”

Jean curses some (something about not being a baby) and steps in, turns around (lovely butt by the way), and sits down. “It’s hot.” Yeah it is. Oh, you meant the water.

“Good. It needs to be.” I lean over and grasp the rags, tossing one to Jean while I get the soap. “Oooh! Levi got us the tea tree oil! This stuff is sooo nice.”

“Hm?” Jean twists his torso enough to see what I’m holding up. He wrinkles his nose when I unscrew the cap. “Smells.”

“Not in a bad way!” I protest. “It’s really good for you. You can even drink it, well not the soap, but pure tea tree oil!”

“Whatever-er-er.” Jean coughs. It looks even worse without any clothes, the way his back just heaves and his skin beads with sweat and reddens unhealthily. I rub his back till he gains control of himself. I haven’t noticed before, but his neck looks a little swollen too.

“Let’s make this fast. I don’t want you exposed any longer than necessary.” There’s a small bucket and he grabs it and dips it in the water, takes a moment to ready himself and dumps the water over his head. The water beads off him like water rushes off a duck’s back. Ew.

I do the same when he lathers the rag with some soap and starts to wash himself, occasionally pausing to cough or catch his breath. He’s wheezing again.

Jean tosses the rags over his shoulder, it hits my chest with a wet plop. “Wash my back.” Hmph.

“What, no please?”

Jean growls. Boy, if you weren’t sick! I re-lather the rags and scrub his back, he seems to like the rough treatment as he leans over on his knees and moans.

He’s so boney. Muscles are hard and strong, but that doesn’t stop vertebrae and ribs from poking out. This wasn’t like this the last time I saw him naked. It has to be the sickness, he barley eats. I can’t help but dig my fingers in knots, eventually the rag is abandoned all together in favor of giving him a message. I’m fascinated, the way his skin just gives into my fingers, the way his muscles twitch as I place pressure on them. It’s beautiful.

It only stops when Jean’s occasional moans turns into a two minute long coughing sessions. I stop and rinse off the soap as he gasps for breath. At least his nose doesn’t seem so plugged anymore.

I quickly wash his hair, even though he protests and whines about using the smelly tree sap. I kiss his nape and declare him cleaner than a newborn baby.

“Have you even seen a newborn? They’re all bloody and gross.” Jean informs me. He scooches forward so he can turn around and lean back on the opposite end of the tub. He keeps his legs closed for modesty sake. “Turn around I’ll do you.”

“No Jean, it’s okay. You need to be getting out now anyway, the water is starting to get cold and you could get worse and-”

“Shut the fuck up and turn your fat ass around.” Is my butt really that big? I do so, only because he’ll probably never offer again. I hear splashing as he rinses and re-lathers a rag. I’m too nervous to glance back, afraid that if I do he’ll change his mind and leave. It’s not till I feel long fingers and cloth swipe across my back do I believe him.

He does it fast and efficiently, even washes my hair for me. Jean must be in a swell mood to be so nice to me today. I love it. Crave it. Want it forever more.

“Okay, I’m done.” The spell is broken when the water level lowers as he gets out.

* * *

 

Jean did get worse.

Right as we sailed into Rangoon’s harbor his coughing intensified. There’s hardly a moment where he doesn’t cough. It’s like pneumonia evolved into whooping cough or something. I’m not even sure that’s possible. But it’s awful. I can’t stand to be around him anymore. I knew I shouldn’t have given him that bath! I knew exposing him could make things worse. I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!

Eren keeps trying to convince me it’s not my fault. But it is. I know it is. Eren keeps trying to tell me it was bound to get worse. That a bath wouldn’t have made anything worse.

Jean’s chills have returned in force. He says his muscles ache and burn. Anytime he isn’t coughing he’s asleep, or at least trying to for he wakes up short of breath – due to his restricted airways – gasping for air which causes more coughing.

My hands are raw from wringing them so much.

It’ll be fine. Rangoon is very popular. There will be a doctor of my heritage here. I’ve already sent Reiner and Mikasa and Levi in advanced to find the things we need. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. I need to find that person myself. Sasha promised not to leave his side. It’s fine. Everything will be okay. I won’t lose a pet to sickness. I won’t. I can’t.

I sit with Jean as always, he’s barely conscious as I dip a rag in water, wring it out and place it on his brow. “Jean, pet, I’m going to go find you a doctor now, okay? Sasha will be with you until I return.” Sasha enters right then. She nods to me as I get up. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

I don’t think he understands me.

* * *

 

The shop I enter is depleted and worn. Must have been hit by a storm rece- no that’s dust. This place is just a dump. There’s a person, male I believe, at the counter I approach. He’s young-ish, maybe late twenties, maybe late thirties, hard to tell with the dimness of the shop. He’s hastily packing things.

“Excuse me, do you now English?” I ask. He whips his head up startled.

“Yes. What do you want, I’m busy.” upon closer inspection, it is clear this man is much older than thirty.

“The locals say you’re the best around. Can you help me, I’ll pay you handsomely.” I’m pretty good at negotiations if I do say so myself.

He sighs and slams a wooden crate on the counter. It clanks with what sounds like glass jars. Please don’t be a charlatan. The noise from the street is greatly muffled, I don’t see how as the window are reeds and cracked.

“Didn’t spend ten years in Cambridge to not be the best. How much we talking?” he’s greedy. Not a good sign for a supposed doctor.

“Depends on how well you do the job. If he dies, you don’t get paid.” I don’t give him everything as he most likely won’t like the fact that I will force him to stay aboard till Eren learns all he can from him and Jean (plus crew) are as healthy as can be. If not, the sharks can have him.

“What ails your friend?” he asks leaning over. I can see him more clearly, he must be mid-forties.

“Pneumonia. I also have some crew members with flu like symptoms and a man with a minor infection.” Hoping beyond reason this man will say yes. I’m not lying when I say I’ll pay him handsomely, _if_ he succeeds.

“Hmm. I’ll see what I can do. What ship are you on?” he asks gathering things.

“No need. Take what you need, I’ll take you right to him.” I see Reiner come into the messy shop out of the corner of my eye. Good, I need the intimidation. “I may have forgotten to mention that you will not be leaving my service until we are done with you.” Smiling makes everything better. Reiner cracks his knuckles. “You see, your new patient is very dear to me and I will be most upset if you fail.”

Somehow, we manage to get Master Chang on board my ship with little difficulty.

I am nervous to show Master Chang Jean. What if he says he’s beyond curing? What if he says he can’t help?

“Where is this patient I’m supposed to treat? Come now, he mustn’t have all day.” He’s arrogant, and not in the Jean-cute way. Insufferable is more like it.

“This way.” I lead him down to my quarters, Sasha really hasn’t left his side. Did Jean just smile upon seeing me? “He’s here.” Master Chang shoos Sasha away to examine Jean. Eren comes rushing in. “Would it be okay if my doctor observes you as you work? He is only still learning and has a thirst for knowledge. I will be willing to pay you extra.” Master Chang frowns but nods.

I wait anxiously as he examines Jean and Eren tells him everything. It’s not long before Chang turns to address me. “The good news is I can cure him. I don’t have the right supplies to do so however. I’ll need to gather the proper herbs and remedies.”

“Eren, have Mikasa and Reiner accompany you two to the market. Make sure he doesn’t get away.” Eren leaves to inform the others of my orders. I take Sasha’s abandoned seat and mop Jean’s sweating forehead. “Will my pet be okay? He was doing so well yesterday. Only this morning has his fever become worse.”

“Pet? Humans can’t be pets.” Master Chang comments, he’s rifling in his bag.

“Hmph. Well he is. Isn’t he handsome?” with how Master Chang wrinkles his nose, I can tell he doesn’t think so. Well, to be fair Jean doesn’t look all that attractive right now. “But he will get better won’t he? He has too, I just got him.”

“Things tend to get worse before they get better.” Is his answer.

There’s a knock on the door and Reiner steps in. “We’re ready to escort, Captain.”

“Be back before nightfall.” I order going back to Jean. He’s smiling at me. I don’t know why.

* * *

 

I’m able to get Jean sitting up so he can at least choke down some water. “You’ll get better Jean, I’ve hired a doctor. Well not, he’s more of a medicine man than what you westerners call a doctor, but trust me, he’ll know better. He said he went to Cambridge. That’s some fancy college in England right?” I add as an afterthought.

Jean responds by coughing up a lung. Then sneezing which causes more coughing. Why does being sick have to be so gross?

Master Chang knocks on the door before entering. Eren carrying most everything as the good doctor sets up a tea kettle and drags out numerous herbs from several bags. I should know these things, but I was a farm boy turned sailor. I know nothing of the medicines, only what not to eat.

I try to get up to get out of their way, but Jean grabs my hand. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me again.” I don’t think he realizes who he is talking too.

“It’s okay Jean, I won’t be going anywhere. I’m right here, Master Chang will need this spot though. He needs to get you to take your medicine.” I brush his damp hair off his equally damp forehead. He whines as I get up, he’s too weak to really keep me in place.

“Listen up boy, what we’ll be making for this sad kid is called Qing Qi Hua Tan Wan. It’s a herbal remedy for-” I tune it out, busying myself with cleaning. With eating, I’ve been eating as much as Jean has – not well. Eren listens to every word Master Chang spews out. Even taking a few notes.

“He’ll need to take this nearly every two hours. Don’t go crazy just because he missed a dose, as long as he drinks the whole cup he will be fine. Now, this sickness is in the lungs so we will need to balance-” Master Chang goes on.

Jean blearily observes the colorful dried plants going into the boiling water, he even asks questions, most are really stupid that both men tend to ignore, which only makes Jean mad. He doesn’t like to be ignored. I slip out and order cast off before Master Chang realizes he’s been shanghaied.

“All hands make sail!” it lightens my heart to see them jump to it. Connie swinging himself high, Reiner pulling rope, Thomas spotting, Armin steering. There are many faces not seen as they are still ill, but it still feels almost whole to watch my beautiful ship glide away from port and dance across the waves.

Many of my sick crew members are still runny nosed, but well enough to participate in their duties. Still, there are a fair amount who have injuries or have fallen overboard, so there are still quite a few missing. Since we’re short on hands I help out too.

The sky has finally cleared and warmer weather is coming on fast. I suspect tomorrow will be just as hot as always. I don’t have a port set, so I guess we’ll be cruising along till a prize sails our way or till I start hearing complaints.

I should go back down. I promised him I wouldn’t leave him.

Eren is firing question after question at Master Chang while he pack his things.

“Ah, Captain, I am on my way now to check on the other so called patients of mine.” He gestures to Jean vaguely who’s looking a little green. “The tea is all set, just make him drink it every two or so hours. I’ll come in every once in a while to check up on him. Fussy thing he is.”

“Isn’t he?” I smile, the doc seems to be a bit nervous. He must have noticed the increased rocking the ship has. He looks a little sea sick too. “Master Chang?”

“…Yes?”

“I’ll have you know we are at sea. There’s this particular shark that always follows my ship, we’ve named him Sharky, he is quite aggressive and Miss Sasha – my cook – is very fond of feeding the creature. If Jean dies, Sharky will have human for dinner, if you catch my meaning.” I wink at his pale face. Eren rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it Master Chang, Jean’s not going to die of some stupid cold.” Eren slaps his back, “Now let’s go see Bertholdt, I’ve already got his infection taken care of, but I’d like to know what you would have done.” The rest of their conversation is lost with the shut door.

Jean doesn’t look green anymore but watches me with pouty lips as I re-light incense.

“How are you Jean?” he snorts up some snot and dramatically sighs (ending it with a dry cough).

“You promised you wouldn’t leave. They made me drink something awful.” There’s actual tears in his eyes.

“Oh you poor baby.” I coo wiping his tears away.

He proceeds to tell me every detail of how gruesome their exam was. How torturous they were with making him drink that gross leaf juice.

I pet him and mop his brow as he recites his horrors. Jean eventually falls asleep midsentence.

Sweet dream dear pet, get well please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm I have plans.
> 
> you know how hard it is to try and find a site that tells you how to cure sickness in like the late 1700- early 1800???? like I know I don't have a date, but this is basically the "technological" age... I guess? (ignoring that they have cameras and the word feminist) idk. but apparently everyone just gave everyone morphine and opium to magically cure people.... if anyone has knowledge/sites to visit let me know. It would be a huge help!
> 
> Lmao, did you know these guys were supposed to meet Erwin like in the 5th chapter? But things got away from me and now Jean is dying and /the/ scene is like a billion chapters away along with several other scenes including the sex. Sigh. Actually sex might be in 3 or so chapters. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	15. Storms A Brewin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting sick of Jean being sick.
> 
> also plot development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 chapters later and there's actual plot. lmao
> 
> Edit: forgot to mention that 1) I track fic: oceans away on tumblr 2) I changed my url to menstralcycling

I wake up in the middle of the night completely coherent – as in there’s no fuzzy edges to everything and the room isn’t spinning a million miles an hour – for the first time in what feels like weeks.

I don’t dare sit up in fear the invisible weight in my chest will explode. My throat is raw, a constant drip of mucus drips down the back of my throat like a leaky faucet. I can fucking taste it. Disgusting. My eyes feel all crusty and dry. I feel like Satan took a shit in my mouth. Lungs feel so sticky, like drying tree sap or something. Holy shit make it stop.

“Jean, are you awake?” is that Marco? He’s so nice. He’s so worried. He’s so thoughtful. Goddammit I don’t even hate the guy anymore. I just dislike his creepy cheerfulness. I hope it’s Marco, I don’t have to talk if Marco is around. He just pets my head and coos. It makes me feel like a child – in a good way though. I’m sick so I deserve to be spoiled rotten.

“I guess.” Fucking hell, I don’t think anyone would be able to understand that wet croak. Jesus, might as well become a fucking frog. Live up to that stupid racial slur. Where did that even come from even? We’re not the only people who eat frog legs. I don’t even like them, they freak me out.

“Drink this. It has honey in it.” oh no no no, don’t lift me up I’ll cough- aaand there it goes. I don’t know how long I cough, it’s like a desert in my throat and a swamp just got hacked into it. You’d think it would sooth, you know with all that mucus coating the rawness, but no, it stings.

The tea tastes like shit. But it does sooth some ache, the honey goes down thick and coats the rawness like freshly laid snow. “Europe is outlawing opium apparently, they don’t seem to know how not to get addicted to it, but we were able to snag some ‘Mama’s Little Helper’ I’m told it’s morphine.” Marco says. There’s some clinking so I assume he’s put the cup down.

“Master Chang doesn’t approve, but you haven’t been sleeping. Your fever and the hacking… it’s keeping you up too long.” Marco goes on, I can’t really see him in the darkness, but I can see his silhouette moving about in front of me. Can he see?

“You’re so good to me.” I really don’t deserve Marco’s kindness. I’ve been such an asshole to him.

“Of course I am. I care about you.” I feel his large hands card through my hair. That’s nice. “Eren gave me the dosage to give you. I’m going to give it to you now.”

“Give me what?” I thought you already gave me my medicine.

“The morphine Jean. So you can sleep better.” Oh, oh that’s right. Yeah okay.

“A’right.” He waits till my coughing ceases before putting another cup to my lips. This cup feels different, cooler and thinner. Must be European porcelain.

I think Marco’s humming. I don’t know, but I feel really tired.

I’ll go to sleep.

* * *

 

Bright light filters through the open window. The cool breeze is the only indication that it’s open. Marco has the bed curtains shut so that the morning light doesn’t blind me. So kind.

I have to pee. Really bad. Like right now. Shit. I’m so comfortable though.

The door squeaking alerts me to an intruder. I’m halfway out of bed when Eren cusses me out in whispers. Why is he even whispering? Oh, Marco sleeps in my bed. He looks so exhausted, poor thing.

“What the fuck are you doing horse-face?” Rude. He places the breakfast tray down on all the maps, there’s a bedside table by the bed. That’s new, when did that get there? It has a tea set on it.

“I hafta pee.” I get up, wobbly and a little sea sick.

“Christ, of course you do.” Eren helps me up and out of the room.

“I can walk myself.” I struggle out of his grip. Eren lets me go with an annoyed huff.

“Fine whatever. Don’t fall in.” asshole.

I get back to Eren pouring tea. Nooooo, that stuff tastes disgusting! Eren has this look. This look of ‘you’re drinking your fucking leaf juice or I’ll pour this whole damn pot down your fucking throat.’ Aw man.

He waits till I get back in bed. “I’ll leave the pot here, drink it every two hours, just a cup – a full one Jean – it’s okay if you fall asleep between doses. I think that Chang guy puts sedatives in it.” I nod. Medicine isn’t even supposed to taste good right?

“Thanks. I know you hate me, it’s nice though.” That didn’t make any sense, was that French? Naw ‘cause Eren is laughing quietly.

“I don’t hate you, I just don’t like you. Extremely dislike most everything about you.” He picks up the tray – it has legs for some reason – and sets it in my lap. “Try and eat as much as you can. You’ve hardly eaten anything in days.” So that’s what the legs are for… oh and Eren leaves.

The food is orient as it almost always is. I don’t mind really, I’ve grown fond of the cuisine. I have western utensils now, they probably don’t trust me with the chopsticks anymore. I don’t know the names of anything besides the rice. That might be chicken, I think that’s an egg of some poor bird.

I try to eat, I really do. But it’s hard, the food hurts going down and it hits my stomach with hollow plunks. I swear I can feel stomach acid splash around as the food lands. After I’ve eaten at least a quarter of the food, the smell starts to make me nauseous. I have to stop, I’ll throw up if I keep going.

Marco wakes sometime later and takes the tray away praising me for eating as much as I did.

* * *

 

Days pass and I find myself regaining my strength. I still cough, but it’s no longer the painful racking that leaves me in tears and gasping for air. Now it’s more like a tickle or a throat clearing. Unfortunately mucus is still a prevalent problem and I’m still not allowed out of bed.

Armin says I’ve been sick for two weeks. He taught me chess and I can care less for the game. Requires too much thinking, makes my head hurt. Also I never win.

People look less grossed out by me now, not that I blame them, but it still hurts. I mean come on, I can’t help being sick! Not my fault I had to help keep this piece of shit tub a float in the middle of the ocean PMS-ing.

I’m so fucking bored. I’ve run out of paper, out of books, out of people I can stand to be around for more than two fucking minutes, and no one allows me to take a piss without someone there. Really fucking annoying.

Marco has been begging me to teach him French, but I refuse. “Please Jean! I want to speak your language!” now that my fever has broken, Marco never hesitates to crawl into bed and glue himself to me.

“Go away.” I snort up some snot. Jesus that’s nasty.

“Please.”

“No. Why would I want you knowing what I’m saying? If you’re so desperate, go beg Levi.”

Meowing interrupts whatever Marco was about to say, he leans over and grabs Filou. He turned up a few days ago, tawny fur black and brown from tar and other gross stuff. Marco wasn’t very happy about the dead rat he plopped on my face. I wasn’t happy either, scared the fuck out of me. Wake up in the middle of the night with a still warm rat on my face? Yeah, talk about nightmare fuel.

The entire time Marco washed the cat he was scolding him. “Disappear for days on end, filthy, and trying to disease your master! Shame on you!” I think it was the first time I’ve laughed in a very long time.

Anyway, no rat this time. The little – well he’s not so little anymore – rascal just want cuddles. I’ve missed him. Spends most his cat time hunting now.

Marco plunks Filou between us, him lying on his side, me sitting up with the help of pillows (not that I need the help). Filou wastes no time in crawling in my lap and demanding attention.

“It’s only fair Jean! I’m teaching you my language!” your whining shouldn’t be cute. That pout and the way you tilt your head shouldn’t be fucking cute. Shouldn’t be making my cheeks warm.

And, oh yeah, Marco decided I should know Chinese. What even is this language? I can’t make heads or tails of it. And since I’m still sick and bedridden I have no escape. I am trapped with Marco forcing me to ‘repeat after me’ ‘try and read this’ ‘this means-‘ ‘this character is-‘. Like there’s a different ‘reading’ for fucking every character. Like what the actual fuck?

However, I do think I might be able to speak the tongue, not read it for sure. That’s impossible, even Marco has admitted to not knowing some readings.

“Did I ask you? No.” I didn’t. I really didn’t.

“But. Jeeeeeaaaaan!” oh please.

“Go suck a rotten egg.” I push him off the bed. Not all that hard as he wasn’t paying attention and he was lying close to the edge.

“Oof! You’re so mean to me!” he whines from the floor. “I hit my head.”

“Good. Maybe it will make an improvement.” Filou’s purring slowly stops as he falls asleep.

“You were so nice to me, what happened?” he sits up rubbing the back of his head.

“You get awfully annoying when you complain.” I shimmy down so I’m lying flat. The exhaustion hasn’t left either. Filou does his ‘how dare you move me’ cat grumbles while I stuff him under the blankets with me.

Marco stops his complaining to pour some tea. “If you’re going back to sleep, you’ll need to drink your tea.”

“Naw.” I wrinkle my nose. I’m better now, don’t need it.

“Yes Jean. It will come back, it did last week.” Damn, I hate it when he’s right.

I had gotten better last week, I was up, I was eating, laughing without coughing, we thought we were in the clear so I stopped drinking that tea. Well, it came back… in force. It was awful, I was throwing up, coughing, crying, it was a mess. I honestly thought I was going to die. However, it turned out some of the herbs had mold that gave me food poisoning, weakening me which caused the sickness to come back worse than ever. I had never seen Marco so livid before. If it weren’t for Reiner holding him back I think Marco would have beat that Chang guy to death.

The only thing I can’t understand is if I had stopped drinking that tea, how did I get poisoned in the first place? I haven’t voiced my concerns as Eren’s annoying voice popped into my head _“I’ve heard rumors that Marco’s pets seem to mysteriously disappear when things get strained. You two have been strained since day one. I don’t know if Marco is the one to get rid of unwanted toys, or something else.”_ I couldn’t have been Marco. But… but what if it was?

It terrifies me because Eren’s right. We have been strained since day one. What if he thinks me too much of a hassle? I’ve been fighting him, not giving him what he wants, and now I’m sick – was literally on my death bed for days. What if Marco gave me some bad food hoping my weakened state would be enough for the food poisoning to kill me? What if I’m no longer wanted?

“Jean?” with that look of concern, I can’t really believe Marco would want me gone. I mean, why go through all this trouble just to kill me? “Jean, is something the matter? Do you feel ill?”

“No. Just… thinking.” I take the offered cup and drink the liquid (not before thoroughly checking the contents).

“Do tell!” he looks excited. He has been for a while. I guess he’s just as scared as me. I’ve been extra nice to him lately, just in case he really is set out to kill me; and he’s milking me for all I’ve got. When he looks like this, fairly bouncing as he climbs back in bed (careful of the grouchy cat) and turns his full attention to me, I can’t see it. I can’t see that he wants to kill me. So who does?

“Marco…” I don’t know how to start. ‘Marco I think someone is trying to kill me’ he would probably laugh it off and say something like ‘It was just an honest mistake pet’.

“Yes?” his voice is serious now, not scary, but more like I have his undivided attention.

“Do you really think last week was an accident? I don’t believe Master Chang had anything to do with it, but I- I just have this feeling that it wasn’t just a simple mistake. I mean how could I have gotten poisoned with moldy herbs when I stopped drinking them?” I ramble, Marco gazes hard at his lap.

“I don’t.” he says finally. “It’s happened before.”

“What do you mean?” I knew it! I fucking knew it! Mother fucking fucking fuck fuck goddammit shit!

“Anyone – a pet to be specific – I get… attached to, they die, or leave in mysterious ways. Mina, she looked absolutely terrified when she begged me to let her leave. She looked so desperate (and honestly she was kinda boring) I let her go.” He takes a deep breath, “She ran off the ship like a- like a, how you say a rat out of hell?”

“A bat. It’s a bat out of hell.”

“Yes. Manny, that storm was not very big, it was easy navigation, and no one fell overboard. He landed on nets that when looked at when everything was calm, was unraveled. Sailors’ nets don’t just ‘unravel’.” He brings his knees to his chest, the blankets make a tent.

“When did this start?” I ask. There had to be a beginning, maybe it started when a certain person joined the ship?

“It has always been this way.” He sounds so defeated.

“Hey, listen Marco.” He turns toward me. I don’t know exactly how to comfort him, I’m terrified. Someone has it out for Marco and he’s going through his people pets to do it. No wonder he’s so determined to keep me. No wonder people look at me with pity, or fear. I’m an omen. Well, fuck you whoever you are, I ain’t going anywhere. “Marco.” I say with more determination, I grab his arm, “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll find out what’s going on, I promise.”

His face beams so bright I’m blinded. Next thing I know I’m on my back with angry yowling and hissing beneath us and the breath knocked out of me. “Marco get off! I can’t breathe! You’re killing my cat!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” he leaps up while I cough and Filou takes a swipe at us both, abandoning the bed in favor of more hospitable grounds.

It quiet, a little too quiet.

“Thank you Jean. It means a lot to me. No one has ever bothered to find out what’s going on.” He laughs with no humor. “I see it, in my crew. Every time there’s a bump in the road, they start to fear and the crew starts to thin out as they leave by the dozens in each port, only to come back when my pet is gone. It happens gradually, I don’t understand. I feel like they know something I don’t, but I don’t know how to ask. I’ve told Reiner, one of my oldest crew members he also never leaves, and he doesn’t know how to explain it. He says it’s like a feeling of dread that slowly climbs up and takes over.”

“Eren told me to be careful, he has some killer instincts. Said people talk, he’s heard rumors of people mysteriously disappearing.” I sigh and lean back down. “Maybe you’re cursed. Piss of any gods or spirits or whatever?”

“I hope not.” Marco say mimicking me.

It’s still daylight, and I’m exhausted. Don’t see why as I’ve hardly moved and haven’t done anything but sleep lately.

“Sleep. I’ll bring you food when you wake. Tiánmì de mèng wǒ de piàoliang de chǒngwù.” He caresses my cheek I feel no shame to lean into his hand, he smiles sweetly. I don’t feel dirty returning the smile anymore, more content. Also, I’m nearly one-hundred percent positive he called me pretty.

Excuse you, I am handsome.

* * *

 

Marco once called me a peacock. Proud and beautiful I strut around showing everyone just how beautiful I am. But once something ruffles my feathers I either lash out in a violent manner, or I scuttle off somewhere else to show off my colorful plume.

I told him to shut the fuck up and called him a dodo bird.

He then laughed and said I proved his point.

Don’t know why I’m thinking of this now, in the middle of the night. I don’t know what time it is, only that it is pitch as black and Marco has the night watch. I can hear light boot thuds resonating from the speaking tube above my head. There’s some talking, too muffled to know what they’re saying. It’s soothing in a way.

Filou is back to being snuggled up close. Don’t know when that happened, but he’s there.

I’m thinking of dozing off till those soft boot thuds and almost silent voices become louder. Even Filou picks his head up to stare at the ceiling. I want to get up and investigate, I’ll probably get yelled at for being up.

I find myself pulling back the covers and getting out of bed. Filou follows close at my heels as I pad silently down the hall.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Bertholdt’s voice has me jumping out of my skin. Filou purrs up at the giant, said giant kneels down to pet him.

“Jesus.” I cough a little getting some looks from unfamiliar crew. “Woke up to noise, what is it?”

“Just a navy ship.” Bertholdt nervously glances behind his shoulder. “It’s too dark to see the colors, but Marco is almost positive it’s navy, he flies Chinese colors and hides his pirate flag just in case.” He licks his dry lips and itches his chest. That’s right he got hurt that day.

“How are you? I heard you got an infection.” I point to his chest, he smiles a little.

“I am fine. It heals fine. Reiner has been good to me.” He smiles bigger, I didn’t need to know about that Reiner bit, how does that even coincide with what I was talking about? “You should go back to bed before the Captain sees you.”

I nod and stalk back down stairs, I miss the fresh air already. Filou trots ahead, chasing shadows and batting curios spiders.

I don’t feel tired, I have energy for the first time in weeks. I need to use it, do something. Anything. Eyes land on the locked drawer. Okay, yeah cool. Where did I put my lock picking stuff?

I light a few lanterns (will probably be scolded for that later) and search for the emerald green pillow. I’m not much of a sewer, but I crudely sewed a secret pocket inside it to hide the lock picking stuff from Marco. I don’t know if he knows, it doesn’t matter now anyway. Finding it, I’m glad to discover that they’re there.

It takes a few minutes to find a place to put the lantern without it having it too close to anything flammable. I sit down, light eliminating the brass locking thing and get to work.

I must have worked for an hour at most, jimmying the lock.

Three broken pins and several long chapters of swear words later there’s a loud click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Sweet dreams my pretty pet [Marco]


	16. Sina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean's legs jitter.
> 
> The plan
> 
> Erwin.
> 
> Escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has a third person pov of Erwin in the middle and end. just a warning in case some one gets confused.
> 
> this scene has been planned since day 3.. I think it 3 anyway.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally made up my mind to what type/look Marco’s ship is!
> 
> The ship:  
> http://i01.i.aliimg.com/photo/v1/100635627/Chinese_Pirate_Junk_Model_Ships.jpg (the shape)  
> AND http://www.pacific-tall-ships.com/Chipirate_files/Chipirate37_1B.jpg (the butt)  
> AND http://www.qualitymodelships.com/files/1743973/uploaded/B030L09%20Chinese%20Junk.jpg (the deck)
> 
> Ship type ref:  
> http://www.thepirateking.com/ships/ship_types.htm

That ship in the distance has sweat prickling uncomfortably on the back of my neck. It’s a half moon, enough light to distinguish the type of ship it is – a small European war ship, a corvette I believe they call it – but not enough to tell who it is.

Ungraceful thing it is. Not at all like my beautiful three masted junk. Or Lorcha, as it does have some western enhancements (crows nest, canvas sails, etc.). Took forever to save enough money to get this baby custom made, and I love it with every fiber of my being and then some.

I have no doubt we could take them… if it weren’t the middle of the night, and if half my crew wasn’t MIA. Dang it.

For our safety we’ll have to keep our distance till we know for sure who is out there. It’s the first ship we’ve seen in nearly a month. It’s time to venture out of the Bay and back into open waters. Circle around Australia, maybe sneak into the China Seas. Anything than this omen filled sea, the entire voyage here has been nothing but trouble.

Mikasa materializes beside me (how does she do that?), “What do we do? Pursue?”

Shaking my head I give her the eyeglass. “No, too dangerous with so little people.” Her lips thin as she trains her eye on the ship. “I want to head for Australia anyway.”

I climb the steps to the helm and steer away from the other ship. We can’t do anything too risky out here. The ship turns south slowly. “Keep an eye out for her.” I say to Mikasa letting her take the wheel.

Two figures are crouched in the shadows, whispering. One I recognize as Bertholdt the other I’m not quite sure as the darkness obscures their face.

“You should go back to bed before the Captain sees you.” Bertholdt says.

Jean Kirschtien! How dare you be out of bed! Oooh whatever. He slept through dinner, he must be up here looking for something to eat. Never mind that the kitchen isn’t on this level, nor do you need to go up here from my room to get there. Maybe a detour for fresh air. Not that I blame him, our room is getting pretty stuffy.

Bertholdt slinks out of the shadows and happens to look directly at me, I raise a brow I’m sure he can’t see in the meager light, but he ducks his head sheepishly anyway and walks away.

Levi comes to stand beside me, I hadn’t known he had the watch. “Australia?” he wonders.

“Yes. We haven’t been in so long, and with England trying to solve their criminal issues by dumping them all there, we might find some decent prey.” Levi hums in acknowledgement.

“What time do you get off?” he asks after some bout of silence. I’m still wearily gazing at the ship we are sailing away from. It does seem to get smaller, but it also seems to be getting closer. Like they are waiting for us to go a certain distance before moving again. Hmmm… I wonder…

“Hm? Oh, another hour I’d say.” I really hope that ship won’t cause problems. They are as quiet as we are. We can hear footsteps and some garbled words come from them, just like us, but nothing overly loud. I’m just being paranoid. “Full speed ahead, I want away from these waters by dawn.” I order. People hop to it within minutes of the order being whispered across the deck.

* * *

 

Jean is out of bed when I come to him with a very late dinner. Just some left over rice and pork as Sasha refused to rekindle the kitchen fires after they had been cold for more than a few hours. Fair enough I suppose, but she didn’t have to be so mean about it.

Anyway, back to Jean being out of bed, he’s… stacking papers? What is he even doing?

“Jean? What in heaven’s name are you doing?” I leave him to moving around papers after staring at them and- oh! It occurs to me suddenly as I set his late dinner on the table that Jean may be organizing. _Why_ on the god’s green Earth, I can’t fathom.

“Can’t sleep. Bored. And you have papers everywhere. The mess is driving me nuts.” He’s talking very fast, his leg jitters when he sits, hands rhythmically tap the desk when they are not holding things.

“Have you drunk your tea?”

“Yea.” He gestures vaguely to the tea set.

“You are wasting oil, do you know how- oh forget it. Why where you on deck?” I come up behind him to read over his shoulders. I know he hates it, it’s why I do it. It’s not very hard to get under Mr. Kirschtien’s skin, and most times it’s kinda fun.

“Wanted to know what was going on.” Jean has organized my papers quite nicely actually. Mostly the English though, other languages he’s piled on the far end of my navigation desk, for me to do I suppose. He has piles for ports, for logs, for maps, for most everything. There’s even a pile on the floor, I pick a few papers up. Just blank pages with test blots and random notes to myself. Scrap paper.

“Go do your stupid language. I’ve got English and French.” He shoos me toward the pile.

“What right have you to order your captain about?” a death glare sent over parchment, “Besides are you not hungry? It’s only left overs.” He shrugs looking over his shoulder at the Japanese table.

“Not hungry.”

“Jean.” I stop his jittering leg with a firm hand. His eyes dart to where my hand lies, just mid-thigh. “Eat. You need to keep your strength.”

He sighs, “Fine.” And goes to grab his food. “Have you given a thought to who wants me dead?” he asks as if telling me how nice the weather is.

“No. I have not.” I don’t like to think about how scared Jean looked when he confessed his feelings yesterday. How determined he looked when he promised we’d look to who is taking my happiness. I should be overjoyed that he’s basically told me he’s staying with me forever, that he won’t leave me – at least not permanently. That he will help me find whatever spooks my pets and sends them to their maker.

But I’m not, I’m frightened.

Not once have I dwelled on the fact that someone may be killing or terrifying my pets to the point where they fear for their lives and sanity. My crew recycles every six months or so, so I can’t believe it’s a jealous person or an envious sailor. The only people who have been at my beck and call for more than a few years is Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Levi and Thomas. And none, and I mean none of them would ever do this.

I wish Annie had not taken that job with Ymir, I could use her detective skills right now. She has an uncanny ability to worm her way into even the highest of ears, how she does it with her unapproachable aura I haven’t the slightest clue. And I know Reiner misses his half-sister.

Bastard children the both of them. Running from some stupid land war within their family that neither cared for. For Annie, it was either the sea, a whore house, or marry some fat pig only after her half rights to some blood stained land. For Reiner it was either the sea or become a kin-slayer. Neither cared enough for home to stay. Or so they claim.

I’m getting off topic.

I can’t think of anyone wanting to kill me either. I’m a pretty nice guy, I treat woman and children like gods and treat all men as my equal. Sure I’m a ‘blood thirsty pirate’ but I’m not a bad person. I do my best to make a living and don’t kill all willy nilly. Is that how that saying goes? Willy nilly?

“Mmhmm.” Jean says with meat in his mouth. It’s the mmhmm that says ‘of course you did’. What are you now, my mother? His leg jitters, rattling the stool he sits upon.

“Why are you so… so full of energy?” what has Chang put in his tea this time?

“Pent up. Been stuck in bed for weeks unable to do anything.” He answers dumping pork into the rice bowl and mixing them.

“There are other ways to expel that extra pent up energy you know.” I say as suggestively as I can making sure I squeeze his thigh at just the right strength to- there it is. That pretty rose blush that spans across his nose and onto his high cheek bones. I think I love messing with him more than sailing. Always fun.

Jean has trouble coming up with an excuse, so much so that I’m starting to believe he’ll say yes. I won’t do it, he’s still ill, I could still possibly catch it. I don’t fancy him coughing in my face either. Mostly it’s just the whole hygiene factor.

“I’ll cough in your face.” He threatens. I don’t doubt him. “You look terrible in yellow.” Jean. I swear to the gods boy. I swear to god.

“How’s your shoulder by the way? With you vomiting your lungs I neglected to pay attention to it.” Jean perks up like he too forgot about how he dislocated his shoulder, and rolls them. I bring a lantern closer as he undoes the ties of his short hanfu and rolls it off his shoulder. The bruise is gone, there’s still some discoloring – yellow and a little purple – but gone.

“Don’t feel it.” He redresses himself quickly. I don’t like the number of ribs we can see. Need to get fatty foods back in his diet.

We are silent for the most part, I never knew Jean cared for messes. I mean I’m not exactly a pig and the ship is always sparkling like new, but my room is something I let get a little messy. I’ve never heard Jean complain about the state of the dirty laundry in the corner, or the overflowing garbage bin by the bookshelf, or that the beds are never made, that sometimes I forget to sweep and there will be rice imbedded in the carpet because Filou couldn’t keep his paws off our food.

And it makes me realize that besides his favorite color and age, I don’t truly know anything about him. I know his past and how he comes to be in my presence. I know he can be impatient, and rude, frustrated at the simplest of things, and easily fired up. I know he is talented, kind, merciful, leadership material, he knows what needs to be done and will get it done in the most fair way possible, but nothing else.

We hardly ever just talk. Sure we talk about the weather, how stupid Connie was to jump into shark infested waters to get his bandana back, how silly Reiner appears as he chases after Bertholdt. We never talk about us. What we feel, dream, what we see. It makes me sad.

“Hey, Jean.” He looks up from the map he’s inspecting, muttering about awful handwriting and something about doing better. “When is your birthday?”

“Why?” he sounds exasperated.

“Because. Maybe I’ll do something.”

“Stupid.” He mutters other things under his breath, “April seventh.” My smile disappears. It is April twenty fourth. We missed his birthday, he was sick on his birthday!

Jean returns to the map, nibbling on his chopsticks again. Wait, isn’t he curious about my birthday? “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t you want to know my birthday?” I’m hurt.

“Not really.” Ow. Jerk.

“June sixteenth.” I say tersely throwing a balled paper at his stupid head. He mutters ‘so’ before adding the map to the map pile.

“Why don’t we ever talk?” come on Jean, no more silence.

“We talk all the time.”

“No I mean-” I’m interrupted by Connie falling through the door. There’s a boom of a canon, not one of ours, and a splash very close.

“Captain! That ship! It’s British and she’s chasing us! I think she know we’re pirate!” he declares.

“Shoot!” I stumble out calling Jean to stay inside, _“Get everyone up! Get up you lazy dogs! We’re being attacked, get up and fight! Stupid Britannia will not be taking us! Wake up!”_ I’m banging and screaming at the top of my lungs, Connie following dumping people out of hammocks and cots. I’m trying to ignore Jean’s words of ‘The hell I will’.

Outside the sky is pinkening, little dabs of orange and light blues are beginning to overtake the navy blues and blacks of night. The stars have yet to give up their time controlling the heavens.

On deck I see Reiner on helm and Mikasa spotting. Armin is directing Reiner which way to turn to catch the wind and currents. The ship, the little corvette from earlier is about the size of my fist, out of canon range but coming in fast. My ship, my pride is faster.

As calmly as I can manage I gather my officers. “We are running, we have too many gone to take down a war ship. Even a small one.” Another warning shot from our chasers. “Load canons arm yourself to the teeth, I fear we may not be able to run unless we catch a fast flowing current or steady winds. Preferably both.”

Jean has joined us, properly dressed and sporting more color than I have seen him in weeks. There’s a flush to his cheeks, his skin isn’t that deathly pale anymore, and he’s regaining his peachy skin tone. Good good, but that doesn’t mean he can be out of bed!

He’s not looking at us even though he’s listening, but squinting at the ship, “I know that ship.” He says, all heads snap to him. “It’s one of _Gloria_ ’s scouting ships, I saw it in Masilupatam. I can’t remember what the name- _Sina_. It’s _Sina_ I’m sure of it, one of the men I questioned said Smith commands that vessel.”

“Shit! Shit!” it’s Levi, his muscles are locked and twitching. “We aren’t getting away unless he lets us. We’re royally fucked.”

I chew my lip, okay, “I might have an idea, depending on what he wants…” Armin pipes his voice wavers as we all look at him.

“The floor is yours.” Reiner comments.

“Go on.” I urge, we don’t have time for insecurities, Levi isn’t one to panic, yet here he is. If Jean is right and this is the famous Smith, we need plans and more plans.

“Okay, so here’s the deal-”

* * *

 

A tall handsome figure stands proud on his ship _Sina,_ part of three so called scouting ships of the main vessel while his long-time friend and rival commands the _Gloria_. The other two ships prowl the Atlantic taking out pirates and disease. _Rose_ with occasional drinking buddy Pixis; and _Maria_ with a childhood friend Mike.

But how could you possibly know of these ships and people?

The tall handsome man chases the Chinese ship ahead of him, she’s fast, unnaturally so. He may have the wind but somehow _Sina_ is unable to get within canon distance. Strange.

“Commander. Sir?” a small timid voice says at his elbow.

“Yes Nifa?”

“That ship the-the _Liúlàng zhě_ ,” she pronounces it carefully, stumbling over the foreign syllables, “are you sure she’s the one General Pixis told you about?”

“The _Wanderer_ and he calls his people the Piāolíng Pirates. The Wandering pirates sailing a wandering ship. This boy thinks he’s clever.” The Commander says seemingly ignoring Nifa’s question.

“I’m sorry sir?” she says not understanding,

“Oh I have no doubt this is the kind pirate captain that enjoyed an old fart’s war stories (Pixis’s word I assure you). This, Captain Marco.” He smiles and turns to his men. “I want that ship floating and the men alive!”

A chorus of ‘aye sirs’s greets his ears.

* * *

 

I glance behind me, how is it that this white bastard has caught up to me!? Our enemy is still not within canon range, but they are closing in. I stand at the helm shouting order after order. More sail, more speed, more this more that. _Liúlàng zhě_ is doing his best, but he is losing. I know it, and he is doing it on purpose!

I probably sound crazy speaking about my ship like this. But he is loyal and true, the only thing in my life that has never failed me.

“Captain. We’ve found the currents, slow down let them catch us.” My hands tremble but I trust Armin’s judgment. We’ll go with his plan, it’s a long shot but there are dozens of plan B’s and ‘what ifs’ he has prepared.

We slow down as casual as we can make it, we’re losing wind anyway. Hopefully they are buying it. Not likely.

“About now Marco.” Mikasa says into my ear.

Jean sits in the bolted chair beside me, brows furrowed in worry- his leg still jitters. I have forbade him from fighting, he will stand by me at all times unless I tell him not to. He will act slow and pretend he does not know English. Only speaking French. This is on the off chance we fail and get captured. This possibly ensures Jean’s life. I am constantly reminded that I’m being stupid, that he will fight, but I remind him (a little too harshly I admit) that as my pet he is just a glorified slave. He has not spoken to me since I uttered those words. We’ll deal with the consequences when the time comes, for now we deal with these high horses who think they can take me down.

At Mikasa’s word I swing the ship around as I did when we fought the American. It always startles them into stopping or veering completely off course in order not to run into us.

They veer in the same manner, a spark goes off somewhere in my heart when I see several of their sailors stumble, including their captain while me and my crew stand upright and strong.

We are side by side now, moving forward ever so slowly, close enough that another ship can fit between us. Killing distance for well-aimed canons. Our canons have been loaded and ready. _Sina_ ’s crew does not have guns ready nor port doors open. They are confident. I see my win already.

All this was done before we swung around. Each man holds a flint that on my command they will light the canons reload and fire again before we sail the heck away from them. Bertholdt will swim under our ship to theirs to plant a bomb on their rudder, when he receives his signal he lights it and swims back. The waters here are dark, they will not see him.

Now, let’s see what the heck they want.

* * *

 

The young Captain, dressed in ridiculous yellow garments goes to the railing of his ship and climbs upon them. _What is he doing I wonder?_ The Commander thinks watching. The young Captain jumps up and down waving his arms above him. Several of his crew including a hulking blond usher him off.

The boy laughs and turns to a small blond and takes some paper from him and begins to write. He then gives it to a girl who ties it to an arrow and point said arrow directly at the Commander.

“Orders Sir?” Hanji comes to stand beside him.

“I want to know what this child has to say. Don’t underestimate these people, I’ve heard he once sailed with Ymir as her right hand man.” The Commander tells his friend.

“I believe that’s Levi there Erwin.” Hanji waves at the short man, their voice tinged with excitement. Erwin had failed to notice him there, how interesting. Levi, his long term investment gone rogue flips them off. _So that’s where you ended up after slipping past me? I become more interested by the second._

The arrow pierces the deck at his feet. Nifa retrieves the note and gives it to Erwin. The boy requests a face to face chat. Erwin locks eyes with the boy, he does not look like an Orient from this distance, and nods.

The boy captain jumps up to grab a loose line, climbs up and swings like a bloody monkey onto Erwin’s lines and down onto the deck five feet from him.

“What do you want with me? I am but an honest merchant.” He says. His garment appears to be mock silk of bright yellow. No sleeves and the pants end and tie at the knee (they are just as yellow and bright as the shirt). Shoes, no more than slippers adorn his feet. He has the barest hints of an accent.

“Why didn’t you swim, or send a boat this way.” The boy... Marco is taken aback.

“I cannot swim. All the boats are on the other side, and that one does not leave.” Erwin glances over at the dingy hanging from the back of the ship.

“You are no more than a boy.” Erwin comments lightly. “We only mean to search your ship. A good friend Pixis,” Marco is taken aback once more at the mention of a familiar name, “said that a modern junk called the _Wanderer_ is captained by a kind young man who happens to be a pirate. A pirate that has taken people as slaves,” Erwin’s chin jerks to a boy in green silks sitting in a chair by the helm, Marco follows his gaze, “and has plundered many ships, yet has not killed anyone unless they attack him first.”

Marco’s only comment is, “Boy? I will be twenty-three come June.” Marco smiles, tilting his head toward his ship, the boy in the chair gets up and goes down the stairs to the lower deck. A woman with black hair helps him down as he seems to have a hard time walking on his own. She guides him out of sight.

Marco sees Erwin watching. “Isn’t he cute? A bit daft and doesn’t know a word of English, but he’s a good boy. Acquired him on Pixis’s ship. He was fierce as fire, one of my men hit him in the head too hard and now he sees dragons and babbles.” Erwin raises a brow, he had not asked nor cared, what is this boy playing at? “As for slaves, I prefer the term pet.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet. A lean blond man on the other captain’s ship, leans against the wheel and falls over the ship turns away slightly. There’s shouts of “Thomas you idiot!” Marco turns around and frowns.

“Why do you want to search my ship?” Captain Marco asks after he has sought his crew’s attention and shook his head at them.

“For disease. Also you are a pirate and by law-” Erwin begins formally.

“We know and rest assured we know what you have been doing, and as much as I detest it I know you are doing what must be done, but I will not allow you aboard my ship unless I was selling you for ransom or some high paying bidder. Ymir has ordered me, even though I am independent, to burn the ships who have even a single sign of that European disease. If you tried washing your arses you white people wouldn’t be dying out from disease.” Marco takes a breath. Erwin is smiling and nodding down at the bold young man. “As for law, you whites have no authority in these waters, no matter how many of our women you rape and sons you kill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that but you see, we own most the land here, and yes I agree with washing arses, but many believe dirt is good for you.” Erwin gestures for Nifa to give him the arrow.

“You people do not own land you did not buy. You killed hundreds of Indians, declared them barbaric just because they live differently, and killed thousands of my own people because they said no. You were not born in these lands Commander Smith, you have no rights telling a native what to do.” The boy rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I did not mean for this to turn into a race issue. I only came to tell you no and whatever you are selling we don’t want it. Leave us be and your ship remains floating.”

“You are in no position to make demands. And for the record, it's the American's killing the Indians.” Erwin’s voice becomes cold and hard. He holds the arrow like one would a riding crop.

Marco laughs nervously and rubs his upper lip. “If that’s what you believe.”

A blast from the rear end of _Sina_ sends men toppling and the ship rocking forward. The boy captain runs toward the railing to escape. “Stop him!” Hanji and Erwin command at the same time drawing their pistols and firing at the boy. The arrow has been dropped and forgotten on the deck floor.

A gush of red spurts just after the _Wanderer_ fires canon after canon (taking out the foremast, boring holes all over the deck and side) and just before the Chinese boy leaps into the water.

Hanji searches the waters for the boy, “I don’t see him!” they call.

The _Liúlàng zhě_ pulls away at an impossibly fast rate, a tall Indian boy is soaking wet and gets a large pat from the hulking blond. Cheers erupt from the other side of the ship.

Bright yellow runs the length of his ship and waves a cheeky good bye as they pull ever farther away Sina unable to follow.

“Bested by children.” Erwin laughs in horror struck amazement.

“What should we do Erwin? Pursue?” Hanji asks.

“No, not yet. I want them and the ship alive and well. I think they’d make good soldiers don’t you think?” Hanji furrows their brows and cackles after they’ve processed what Erwin has implied.

“If you couldn’t persuade that Levi man, what makes you think you’ll persuade a bunch of kids who like their freedom?” they ask.

“Never thought Levi would take orders from a brat.” Erwin comments then turns to address his men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been binge watching Game of Thrones, and I already planned for reiner and annie to be half siblings, but the feud was inspired by GoT. so thank you George.


	17. People Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the fuck i'm doing anymore.
> 
> have some half assed sex

Hands tremble, clenching the shimmering fabric tightly. I don’t like this. This plan won’t work, there’s no way it will work. That Smith guy isn’t stupid, he’ll see through it, we’ll be hanged for sure.

‘Sit in this chair and don’t move till you receive your signal.’ Marco said. ‘Pretend you’re daft. Stupid. Not all there.’ Marco said. If I wasn’t so goddamn angry and scared at the time I would have decked him.

When Marco rushed out I dressed as fast as I could, the only thing clean I could find was the red outfit I wore my first days here, it was good enough. When this plan (that’s totally doomed to fail) was devised, Marco made me go down and change into a pretty hanfu. Not wanting to make a fool out of myself by calling him a cunt, I did as I was told. Now I wear a green Hanfu that I’m positive is for woman.

Not my choice, it was his.

My thoughts are a jumble, I keep twitching and this fucking leg won’t stop bouncing.

I watch Marco climb over to the other ship. Please don’t die, I don’t want to know what will happen to me if you’re out of the picture. Especially the looks I’m getting from the more rowdy crew. Also I sorta care. Kinda. God he looks so fucking awful in yellow, I think the Commander agrees with me. He’s too far away for me to see his face from where I patiently sit though.

They talk, I watch. We are nervous and trying very hard not to show it. Levi fairly paces just out of sight, he ends up leaving my line of sight, probably to lean on the wall by the stairs. A… woman? Man? Waves at us, I can hear Levi growl. Oh, didn’t Marco mention Levi knows these people?

All I can do is wait and be stupid. Shouldn’t be hard. My job isn’t even a fucking job. Just go over when I’m told and make sure Bertholdt gets on the ship. That’s it. I’m pissed about it. Make me feel even more useless why don’t you?

Shit, they’re looking at me.

We can’t hear what’s going on over there so Marco and Armin devised body signals. Like mine right now. I get up too fast and feel all the blood rush south (and not in the fun way) Mikasa helps me down the stairs ‘cause I seriously think I’m going to pass the fuck out.

“This is stupid. This is never going to work.” I say to her. We’re on the other side of the deck, hidden by the quarter deck. There’s a rope ladder for Bertholdt to climb up when (if) he gets done with his job. Can’t believe sweaty volunteered to do it. If he gets seen it’s a dozen new holes in him. From bullets or sharp teeth is anyone’s guess.

Rather have a shark do me in than a human. But that’s just me.

“It’s a long shot, but I think Marco can do it.” She says. I can’t remember what her job is in all this shitty madness. I snort. Yeah right. Marco is a shit liar. I highly doubt it.

The ship turns, me and Mikasa have to move a little farther down so the other ship don’t see us. Thomas must have gotten his signal, I see Connie untying a sail, it would be impossible to see him if you weren’t where I am standing. His signal was the ship moving, mine was Marco tilting his head. I think Thomas’s was rocking.

This won’t work. This won’t fucking work. Smith and company can’t be that dumb. Don’t they see pirates get closer to their canons? Don’t they have guards posted by their rudder? There are a few of _Sina_ ’s men giving us the eye, but the higher ups don’t see us as a threat.

Maybe it’s because they’re British. Bastards the lot of them. Think they own everything and that everyone owes them. Assholes. Maybe we’ll get out of this alive after all.

_BOOM_

The blast has my heart leaping out of my throat. I stumble to the railing searching for- there. I help him over the railing, he’s gasping for breath. “Almost got me. The shark.”

We don’t have time for any other words as our ship ricks with several canons firing. I can hear the rapid _pop pop pop_ s of gun fire. I feel my heart clench, Marco is still over there.

We’re moving, Connie and Sasha have let the sails down and now we’ve caught the current. Where’s Marco? More canon fire from us drowns out the insistent _pop pop pop_. The ship has turned fully, we’re showing our asses to the other ship.

“Zhè shì kěpà de. Shāyú jīhū dédàole wǒ. Ó shén.” I whirl around to see Marco hugging the railing soaking wet and red streaming down his arm.

“Marco!” that sounded really wifey. Kill me now. I’m so happy he’s okay, wait his arm- “Marco your arm.”

“Huh?” he glances down it and shrugs his face alight with excitement. “Oh Jean you should have seen it! I was so sure I was going to fail but I did it! Hahehahahe! I was so afraid I’d look bad, that my people would look bad and! And! And! Wow!” he’s grabbed my arms and shakes me in his over excitement. He’s high on adrenaline. His accent is showing again.

He shoves me away and runs the length of the ship to wave good bye at the good commander.

“Grab him!” I shout, “He’s been hit!” no one is listening to me. They’re all shouting and celebrating. Clapping each other on the back and promising the few females a good fuck. I’ve never seen Mikasa blush before… wow, that’s-that’s so beauti-

Marco bounces back to me, grabs my face and smacks his lips to mine. The cheering intensifies. All thoughts of Mikasa’s blush is torn away with Marco’s eager lips. He’s backed us into a wall where he practically eats my face.

“Mar-mm- Ma-m-co.” I push him away, “Marco you’re bleeding!” I harshly whisper at him, his lips move to my neck. Not now Marco. Not in public!

“It’s fine, just a graze.” He bounces up and down. “Can’t believe that worked!” there’s a haziness to his eyes now. There’s a rip in the fabric and a red patch forming on his side about nipple height. Oh no. I need him down below before anyone sees this. There has been men who have been talking, talking of dumping Marco and those loyal to him.

What to do, what to do- that’s it sex!

“Marco.” I lean in close to him, brushing fingers against his neck and give him my best bedroom eyes, “Why don’t you go get ready for me while I go freshen up?” his eyes light up.

“Yes! Yes! I will!” he eats my face again before getting caught up with talking to Reiner. Marco’s arm hides the slowly creeping blood stain forming.

I run to the brig where we put Master Chang for his safety, just in case we failed he would be seen as a prisoner and not a pirate. I unlock the cage with shaking hands, he takes this as a bad sign.

“What’s happened, are we sinking!?” his voice trembles.

“No-no nono. We did it, but- but Marco was shot and he’s bleeding, he needs your help! Please!” I sound so desperate, I sicken myself. Master Chang stands and takes the keys from my hands to unlock the door himself. I don’t like blood, I don’t like guns, I don’t like Marco hurt.

Chang hurries to Marco’s room with me close at his heels, “He might me naked, I kinda tricked him with sex to get him down here. He doesn’t know he’s hurt and no one else noticed the blood but me.” I sniff, fuck I’m still shaking. I am officially in so fucking deep that I would actually be significantly sad if Marco dies. The fact that Marco is bleeding has me shaking like a leaf proves I care about the guy.

Shit. Goddammit. Mother fuck.

Marco is not in the room yet. It’s not long at all before he stumbles in clutching his chest wound. Oh god. There’s more blood than there was before. He breathes deeply leaning on the door frame, he’s whining.

“Come here boy.” Chang says pulling a chair out.

I go to Marco, I feel like such a wife. “You lied about the sex.” He whines. “I wanted victory sex!” he hisses as he sits down, the adrenaline hasn’t left his system. I can see the way his pulse pounds in his neck.

“It was the only way to get you to listen to me.” when we wrestle his shirt off I nearly faint in relief. It’s just a graze, a deep graze that will need stitches. The arm however still has the bullet. Chang sets off to remove the bullet while I clean up the blood dripping from his torso.

“Is it bad?” he asks. He sounds scared, voice shakes like a boy watching his first kill. I gulp as he flinches and cries out when the pure alcohol is poured over both wounds.

“No.” I say. Me and Chang switch places so he can stitch the wound while I wrap a bandage around his arm, before I do he instructs me to gently rub some questionable green paste onto the wound, I do it. Where’s Jaeger when you need him?

“It hurts.”

“Of fucking course it does you idiot, you were shot twice stupid.” Honestly Marco.

It’s fascinating watching the adrenaline leave his system. His eyes stop doing that impossible shine, his face falls from the smile into a grimace of pain, his pulse slows. Fascinating.

“I was really looking forward to that sex.” Marco says after Chang has left.

“Maybe later.” I tell him plopping a wet rag on his lap. “Clean up.” I collapse on the ottoman and laugh.

I can’t believe that shitty plan worked.

Fuck this day. It started out too early for this shit.

* * *

 

“You are staying in bed Jean.” Marco orders.

“No I am not. I am going to the mess deck and I am going to eat with everybody else.” I’m gathering my clothes from earlier, I am not prancing around in this female garb a minute longer.

“Jean you are still ill!”

“No I’m not.” I really am not. I haven’t felt the need to cough, there’s no fatigue, no dizziness, and certainly no need to stay in bed and waste away.

“If you leave this room so help me I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Spank me? I am not a child, I do as I please when it pleases me. Now go away, I need to change.” I am so sick of being trapped in this stupid fucking room with Marco coddling me like a baby. It was fun when I actually needed it but now I want to deck his stupid fucking freckled face.

Marco is still bare chested, clean of all blood and trying very hard to come up with a way to get me back in bed. Uh-oh. I don’t like that smile. “If you want to leave this room, you will wear what you have on or don’t leave at all.”

Fine. “Fine.” I retie the sash thing and open the door and leave him. It’s not like everyone hasn’t seen me in it anyway. Fuck you, I’m going to have a swell time with better friends than him. And if anyone says anything I don’t like I’ll stab their stupid ugly fucking face.

“Five!” he yells. What the hell does that even mean?

* * *

 

Marco and I lay in bed after the day is done. The sky is dark and only one lantern is lit, it hangs above us in Marco’s canopy bed eliminating us in an orange glow. It swings with every gentle rock of the ship.

We’ll be traveling down the west coast of Australia, around to the east then up around the numerous islands into the China seas. Marco says it will most likely take all summer, or winter here I think. Don’t the seasons flip when you are south? I don’t know, it is spring in France right now. I don’t even know what fucking day it is anymore. I’ve lost count.

Marco moans some, not in pain but I think pleasure. I’ve been poking (literally poking) his boner for at least an hour now. It’s funny, I’m seeing how long it will take before he wakes up or it goes away. I kinda want to know what will happen if I did something more, but I don’t want him getting the wrong idea. I’m just having fun with his boner in the most innocent way… Jesus Christ that sounds awful.

“Mmm, nǐ néng bùnéng zuò dào zhè yīdiǎn?” Marco mumbles. Huh? I’m mid poke when I look at him, he’s turned his head toward me, brown eyes cloudy with sleep, and his voice thick with the same.

“What?” I’m pretty sure he said stop.

He clears his throat and shifts, pain flickers across his face, “I said, can you not do that?”

Sighing I flip back onto my back. The night is too warm for coverings, they’ve been pushed down away from us. “Can’t sleep, your dick was entertainment. Four pokes it bounces, seven it twitches. Was trying to make a song.”

“Dreaming about the victory sex you promised.” He mutters yawning.

“I never said sex, you are the one who assumed. When you assume you make an ass out of u and me.” Sure the sex was implied but I never said so.

“I don’t understand that metaphor.” He says. His boner hasn’t gone away and it’s starting to irritate me.

“The English spelling for assume is a-ess-ess-you-em-ee. Ass is spelled a-ess-ess. U as in you, and me is spelled em-ee. When you assume you make an ass (the first part of assume) out of u (the middle part) and me (the last part-) I’m not explaining it to you.” I give up. I don’t even make sense. Don’t make a Frenchman explain English.

“Nono, I think I get it. Haha.” He looks at me again and grabs my hand. “Hey, jerk me off.”

He sticks my hand down his pants. Ohmygod Marco, can you be any smoother? *Heavy sarcasm* But yeah, okay, I did inadvertently promise victory sex.

“Okay. Why not?” I say. He’s surprised. I use it to untie his drawstrings and take out his dick. It’s pretty I guess, not like I go look at every man’s dick. Kinda considered rude to do so. It’s pretty in a way it’s not all wrinkly or discolored, there’s nothing excessive about him- it- whatever.

“Really?” he croaks.

“Yeah. Got any oil or something to make this easier?” why am I feeling so generous today? He made me walk around in woman’s clothing all day just because I didn’t want to be a good little boy and stay in bed.

“Y-yeah.” Marco leans over groaning in pain at how his stitches stretch as he does so, also I stuck the tip of my pointer finger in his slit ‘cause I’m an asshole.

I play with his tip, swirling my finger around idly. Bored I pull back his foreskin (do Asians circumcise their kids?) to swipe his tip with my thumb. Marco whines. I feel so evil at how desperate he’s searching for the oil, I’ve hardly touched him and he’s already a whining brat.

He disappears from my grasp when his sits up suddenly. “Don’t be mean.” He says. I sit up with him, goodness, I never expected toying with him would be so much fun.

“Hurry up and find that oil Captain, I’m getting old.” I whisper into his neck, he likes it when I suck there. He groans deeply enough that I feel it vibrate my lips.

“Here, try not to lean on my side please.” He tosses a little green bottle in my lap, I’ll have a bruise where it hit my knee tomorrow for sure. The cork is a bit tricky but I eventually get it done, “Hurry up my pet, I’m getting old.”

“Fuck you.” Saddling up close I put an arm around him, hip to hip, this position allows me to jerk him off with my dominate hand and play with him with the other all the while I might kiss him or breathe on him. I don’t understand why breathing on someone is hot, I find it wet and creepy.

“What about you?” Marco asks nudging his nose against my cheek.

I shrug, I don’t care, not turned on anyway. “Don’t worry about it. I can’t get turned on just by playing with someone.” Not true, I just don’t find men all that appealing as I do with woman. Sure, stimulation is stimulation; sex is sex, but set me up with a beautiful woman to an equally beautiful man and I’ll choose the woman.

I waste no more time in pouring a little droplets of clear oil (I’ve never seen clear oil before, what is this stuff?) on him, Marco hisses shuddering a “Cold.” before I wrap a hand around him and stroke. Everything I do is experimental, what does he like? This twist? That pull? Until I find what he likes and jerk him off more surely. The free hand travels under his shirt to pull a nipple (nipples are good right?) I don’t expect Marco’s intense reaction. Okay, nipples are good.

“Ah! J-Jean, mm- little faster please.” Marco moans. He has trouble finding something to do with his hands, his injured arm squeezes my thigh with every stroke I give him; the other just lays there. I stroke faster, watching the way his cock twitches and swells. I abandoned his flushed cock to trail a slick finger down his length to tickle his balls.

“You know I heard China men shave everything.” I comment in his ear, “Is that true, or do you like the hair?”

Marco laughs and shivers when I squeeze him and go back to stroking him. “I don-nng like the thought of anything sha-ha-rper than a fi-nng-finger nail down there.” Fair enough I think.

I’m getting bored and my wrist is starting to hurt, time to finish him off. I resituate myself to have more leverage in my endeavors. Jerking hand pulls all the stops – squeezing at the base and swiping my palm on his head, nails occasionally lightly scratch his balls and cock – the other hand gently twists and pulls his nipples while I bring my mouth to Marco freckled neck. Cover each freckle with a hickie (or at least try to).

My name becomes a mantra between his lewd moans, Marco starts thrusting into my hand. If my wrist weren’t cramping I’d say this was almost fun.

“J-J-ah-nn” he prays. Fucking _prays_. I love it. The way he’s just coming undone at the seams for me, just from this. It’s thrilling.

“Come on Marco, just let go, I’ve got you.” Cooing in his ear sets him off. He’s not loud, but he’s not quiet either. Just a deep groan that sounds very close to a growl- Marco’s brown eyes stare at me till his orgasm hits, forcing him to close his eyes. Haha, same. If it’s good, I can’t keep my eyes open either.

I stroke him through it till he whines in Chinese to stop. “Tíngzhǐ. Tíngzhǐ. Xiànzài téng.” _Stop. Stop. Hurts now_. He says. I know that much Chinese, so I stop and kiss his fore head and let him catch his breath while his semen dries on his stomach and my hand.

Fucking disgusting.

He wants cuddles, but I want my hand clean, I get up and clean us up before allowing him to cuddle me.

I am a sucker for after sex cuddles (even though it wasn’t really sex, at least not in my books).

* * *

 

It’s May twenty-ninth and I’m only now realizing I’ve missed my birthday. The drawing pad is dropped back onto my lap (I’m going through sketches and seeing which ones are fit to try out those oil paints).

“I missed my birthday.” I say out loud to the empty room.

“You were sick on your birthday too.” Marco says from the direction of the bed. How long has he been in here? Long enough to be comfortable in his desk chair and writing intently on something apparently.

“I missed my twenty-second.” Oh well, I don’t really care, just a surprise is all. Like never realizing your parents had sex. Like you knew, but did you _know_.

“-mething. I’m sure Sasha has a recipe for cake and – Jean are listening – of course you aren’t.” he sighs and falls into silence. The scratch of the quill penetrates the short silence.

“Sorry. Don’t bother, I don’t care. Really Marco. Just surprised with how many days have passed is all.” I apologize. I hadn’t even realized he was even talking.

The scratching stops. A chair scrapes across the floor as the man sitting in it stands and stretches. I hear his groan and pops as he stretches. His footsteps get louder as they come towards me. He sits on the hard floor, digging his bare feet into the pillows, I could lean my head over just a little to rest it on his thigh, but I don’t.

“You should color this one. Grey doesn’t serve a sunset.” He points at the drawing still in the sketch pad.

“Not tonight, I don’t feel like art today.” I tell him and lean my head on his thigh; his finger cards through my hair. I need another haircut.

I have to admit, I’m starting to have… feelings for the man. I haven’t yet given myself to him, well I have, just no butt stuff yet, at least not dick in butt- god there’s just no ‘clean’ way to say that is there? He’s been kind and patient enough to teach me the ways to pleasure a man. I’m not completely new to using other methods, just... never with a man.

I always feel so special when he touches me. Like I’m the only person he’s ever been or ever will be with. Like I’m glass, like I’m some precious gold. I love it. Makes me wonder what he’ll do if asked him to be not so kind. Would he hit me? Pull my hair more than a playful tug? Bite me harder than a simple nip? Tie me down till I can’t move and take me? I always wonder, and I’ve begun to dream my wonders. Would he allow me to take him? Do the things I dream of to him? Let me tie him down? I don’t know.

Someday perhaps.

Marco is an adventurous lad, a little self-centered and a bit vain. He’s spent a full hour in front of the mirror once or twice (at least the times I’ve caught him, and I have no doubt there has been more times) making sure there’s not a single blemish or hair out of order. (I feel there’s no point in fixing hair the sea wind will blow away. Not patronizing him as I am every bit of vain as he is, he’s just hides that part of him while I don’t bother). His smile hides greed, his kindness hides a deep harshness, and his gentleness hides ruthless ambition. Marco… Bodt? I think I heard Levi call him Bodt before, not sure it’s his last name though. Anyway, Marco Bodt is just as harsh as he is kind. His so called better side is just as real as his so called bad side. He is two sides of the same coin.

The funny thing is Marco is distressed easily. And just how he messes with my temper I mess with his worry. It’s fun.

I’m knocked from my thoughts when Marco crawls down from his perch, gathers my things from off the bed and my lap and sets them where he once sat. “Jean, we can still do something for your birthday.” He swings a leg over me and smooths his hands over my shoulders.

“It was a month ago. I told you it’s nothing. You don’t have to do anything for me.” It’s my job to please you- it’s why I’m in your company after all. I don’t dare say it out loud, because I am a coward and I always feel so embarrassed when I do things with him. Fucker thinks it’s cute, but I don’t. I think it’s pure stupid.

“But I want to.” He pulls apart my shirt and rubs me.

“Well, if you insist.” Sighing dramatically I pull him in for a kiss. Maybe I’m getting better at this male sex stuff. Maybe it’s because I play a somewhat submissive roll, a woman’s role that has me so flustered all the time. Someday I’ll have Marco play that role, oh how I’ll have him squirming and- AH!

Not sure when Marco got my pants undone enough to slip his hand down and grab me, but he did. The little snake, two can play at that game.

He likes his nipples played with and I have cold hands.

Hands lip under his tunic, careful not to touch him till I’ve reached- he gasps and shrinks from my cold hands. “Not fair.” He whines retaliating by squeezing me. I’m relentless, it’s so much fun playing with him. “Jeaaan. Pet. I’m supposed to be playing with you, not the other way around.”

“Fine.” Come on you little shit, get to it. Marco instructs me to lift my hips so he can take my trousers off. I spread my legs lewdly. “Prêt à me déguster, mon capitaine aux taches de rousseur?" _Ready to taste me my freckled captain?_

“Hm?” he lifts his head out of my crotch, “What’s that wǒ de chǒngwù?”

Marco never wastes time in just swallowing me down. I don’t know how he does it, but he can go all the way down till I can feel the tip of his nose brush my belly in one go without choking. He has a gag reflex, but he doesn’t choke unless I hold his hands. Fine though, I don’t fancy him (or me) chocking on dick, sounds like they’ll throw up. Wish he’d tell me how he does that though.

Marco swirls his tongue has me biting back a moan. He comes up for air, “Why don’t you play with those pretty nipples of yours?” sigh, I thought he wanted to please me? Why do I have to touch? I do it anyway, I’m not big on nipple play as he is but I’m still sensitive.

Goddamn his tongue, he has me moaning like a three dollar whore in no time. I’m arching into his mouth fighting his hands that’ve pinned my hips down while he sucks on the head of my dick like candy. I tweak my nipples and lightly scratch fingernails across them. He hums, now just licking long stripes up and down.

“Shit.” Moaning I grab his hair, I’m done with my nipples, I squeezed too hard and now they’re too sore to play with. “Like that. You suces comme un-ngh enfant mourir de faim.” Woo, languge center has been sucked through my dick, next stop my soul. “Sh-shit Marco.”

Marco lets go with a lewd pop. “Did you just call me an infant?”

“…non.” I said he was _like_ a starving infant, you know how they really start to suck on their mom’s tits? That’s how intense Marco is.

“Xìngyùn de nǐ yǒu kě'ài de jiāhuo, yúchǔn de nánhái.” He says to my dick before redoubling his efforts.

I can’t keep my voice in check, those lewd slurping sounds are lewd and nasty but the way Marco’s head just bobs as he hums and praises me drowns out all notions of disgust from my mind. I think I may have a praise kink.

“Gonna cum.” I warn him. He pulls back at my warning just in time for his hand to catch my release. Marco doesn’t like a mouthful of semen. Don’t blame him, but I’ll do it.

Marco kisses a trail up my chest to my lips, “Happy birthday zhēnguì.” _Precious_ he calls me. I hear zhēnguì de chǒngwù more times a day than I care to count. _Precious pet_. Precious pet my ass.

* * *

 

People are beginning to talk, a man I punched so hard in the nose I felt the crack tried to touch me inappropriately. Marco has flogged at least three people for forcing one of Sasha’s kitchen hands. The poor girl. I have never seen a flogging before, and let me tell you, you don’t ever want to.

Reiner talks about mutiny, not him committing it, but the others. Him and Bertholdt have caught and punished several people violating one of the few absolute rules Marco has. 1) No raping. 2) No fighting. Duels are prohibited and must be fought with swords, first blood wins the duel. 3) No killing, unless it’s self-defense. 4) No stealing from crew members.

There’s more, but no one to my knowledge has committed them. All the rules are punishable by either a flogging, a whipping, or death depending on the severity of the crime.

I am trying to warn him of these dangers. We need to make port, pay and discharge everyone, get fresh meat. He’s in denial, thinks everyone is all dandy. It has become so bad that I become paranoid if I’m alone, if Marco leaves the room alone I get scared. What if he comes back with a knife in his back? The door is locked all day and night in my paranoia, I’ve urged the girls to keep their doors locked as well.

He shakes his head. Of fucking course the shakes his head. He’s so fucking ignorant of everything around him. Still thinks people take him seriously. Still thinks his crewmen are loyal to him. But I’ve seen it, I’ve seen the hunger in their eyes when they see me, when Mikasa and Sasha are on deck, when Armin braves coming out in the open. The other woman are afraid to leave their quarters, afraid to talk to a man. The only reason they haven’t done anything is because Reiner and Levi would butcher them.

“You are so fucking ignorant. Your lesser crew speak of mutiny, the only thing standing between your slit throat and your reign is the few who are truly loyal to you.” Marco is shaking his head more fiercely. “Marco, something is happening and you’re the only one blind to it.” I say gently. “Just- say I didn’t warn you. And- and be careful.”

“I appreciate your concern pet, but I can take care of myself.” Marco says, his eyes are hard.

Idiot, that’s not what I meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> That was scary. Shark almost got me. Oh gods. [Marco]  
> My pet [Marco]  
> Lucky you have cute dick, silly boy [Marco]
> 
> The hanfu Jean was wearing:  
> http://www.finechineseclothing.com/BACKEND/Resource/ProductPic/420_680/WHF-6032-New2.jpg


	18. Aw Sheeit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
> 
> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *casually steals mulan characters names*

_Mutiny_ they say. _Danger_ they say. Don’t they think I already know that? I’m not stupid, I’m not ignorant, _I know_. But where am I going to dump these people and find a whole new crew on such short notice? At what port? The closest land is uninhabited, there are no major cities for at least a week’s voyage.

Bloody hell, shut up.

I do appreciate their concern though. Especially Jean’s, though I am sure he’s more worried about what will happen to him if I’m suddenly out of the picture.

On a brighter note, Jean’s found out I am ticklish. It was a complete accident really. He was changing my bandage last night after our bath and very lightly brushed my ribs. I did that flinch thing, you know when it tickles and you do the- you know it, _anyway_ , he thought he’d hurt me and I was willing to let him believe that to keep my secret. Normally something so silly as being ticklish wouldn’t be so alarming, but I know Jean and I _know_ he’ll use it against me. His robe’s sleeve kept brushing against me while he wrapped the bandage around and I ended up giggling like a little girl. And, and there was this _flash_ in his eyes. A _knowing_ flash a _terrifying_ flash and a _smirk_. A smirk that spoke of _evil_ plans. Right then I knew he knew.

I feel as if I should fear for my life now.

He won’t do anything till this wound is healed though, but when it is, I’ll have to watch my back. Jean is patient when it comes to revenge, I learned that through observation.

A man, Samuel I believe he called himself, thought it… _okay_ to _touch_ Jean. That bastard slapped my pet’s bum and declared just loud enough for Jean and me to hear what he would do to such bum. At first I thought Jean was going to run him through, but when he didn’t. I had thought Jean was going to ignore the offense. It confused me as it was not in Jean’s nature to let something like that slide. Long story short Jean lured Mr. Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was outside when they both had the night watch, cut him and threw the man overboard to the sharks.

Jean has become a pirate after all. I’m so proud.

“Captain, a word with you.” Levi calls from the main deck as he jogs up to the quarter deck to me at the helm. Dear gods, I swear if it’s another talk about mutiny I’m going to start hanging people.

“If the word mutiny leaves that pretty mouth I swear-”

“Shut up. It’s not about that.” He comes to stand before me. “We are only a day or two from any of the Indonesian islands.” Funny, Armin told me we were far from shore. “We can still stay on course. Plenty of our kind there.”

Bloody hell. “Thomas, take the helm. Call my officers Levi, we’ll have your stupid meeting.” I say storming down to my rooms.

Jean won’t leave our room alone anymore, Mikasa doesn’t come up for air without a weapon. Sasha never leaves the kitchen and her girls don’t leave their level anymore. I know something should be done, but I don’t want all my crew speaking English, the whites that land here think they’re superior, they won’t take orders from a half Chinese boy of twenty-three.

I storm in causing Jean to jump from his crouch ready to attack. He’s got a hair pin in his hand, really, what’s he gonna do? Style my hair to death? What is he doing anyway?

“What are you doing?”

“The drawer, I unlocked it weeks ago, but it locked it again before I could open it, knee bumped it. Took me so long last time I rage quit.” He goes back to crouching.

“No time now, Levi demands a meeting.” I pour some cold tea, oh never mind, just water. Guess no one made tea this morning.

“Every time.” Jean says, he’s gathering his art (he’s getting better, much better, his cats were good, now they’re great) and shoving them under the bed. He’s still shy. Cute really.

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I try and open that stupid thing, I get interrupted.” He paces.

“Must be Fate telling you not to open it. Maybe there’s a severed head in a jar in it. I think it’s either gold or letters. Either way I hope it’s interesting.” I tell him shutting and locking the window then drawing the curtains.

“Watch it be empty.” Jean grunts. I never thought it might be empty. Knocks interrupt my chuckle.

Mikasa locks the door behind her, Eren closes the sheer curtains that separate my room into smaller rooms. I don’t know if it helps with noise, but they’re pretty I guess. Armin goes to my desk and grabs several maps. Gods, my head is already starting to hurt, maybe I can guilt trip Jean into giving me a massage.

“Is this everyone?” nods, fine. “Let’s get this over with.” I sigh and plop down while Jean helps Armin flatten the maps with random weights (including my shoe).

“I suggest we pay the bad crew and get a new one.” Levi starts leaning on my bed post. “People who don’t act like they haven’t taken a shit in weeks.”

“Yes I _know_ what you people want. But _how_ , we have navy up our arses every time we leave a port, and no money to pay this crew. Not unless we want to suffer not paying Ymir, which I like my back um… ah- bù bōle pí.”

“What?” Eren asks.

“Flayed he means. He doesn’t want Ymir to whip him.” Jean whispers to him. So that’s the word for it, wasn’t sure. So proud of him. Picking up my language slowly but well.

“We have another moon to pay her, we’ll burn that bridge when we get there. Right now we need to cut the rot off.” Levi is losing his patience. I know goddammit!

“Where are we Armin, you told me we are a weeks off from any land, Levi tells me we are two days!” Armin flinches, I’ve never raised my voice to him.

“I was wrong, not familiar with the southern stars.” He replies tersely. “Java is the most habited island around. Everywhere else is barbaric lands or simple people just trying to make-”

“Get on with it. I’m running out of patience.” I feel pressure behind my eyeballs. Jean frowns deeply at me. Oh go suck an egg.

“Jesus Christ. We pick a random port, popular, pay the assholes and when they get off the ship we leave, there’s enough of us to sail if we get Sasha’s woman to help out. We go to the next port hire more, or force more. There.” Eren interrupts pointing randomly at the map.

“…That’s not a bad idea.” Levi says slowly. It really isn’t, even Armin and Mikasa look surprised.

“But what of those who do not leave?” Mikasa hides behind her scarf.

“Bye.” Jean says waving his fingers. I’m unsure what he means.

“Yeah, we just kick ‘em over.” I don’t see how Eren understood that.

Frick, okay, it’s as good as any plan. “Alright, what’s the closest port we can dump them?”

“Cilacap.” Armin announces pointing at Java. He pronounced it wrong.

“Fine. I want to meet every one of my one hundred and thirty two crew. I will interview them and see who gets to stay and who leaves.” I get snorts from my more snarky members. Ancestors, give me the strength and patience not to slap these people. “The ones who leave will receive half the pay they would normally get. At sword or gun point, I don’t care which, they will be herded into a… a… uh ting?”

“Longboat.” Levi provides. Stupid name.

“A longboat and we leave. That’s it.” I command.

“Even better.” Armin rolls up the map dumping the makeshift weights onto the floor with no care. Seems fair as I was a bit rude to him, must be spending too much time with Jean.

This is going to be a long day.

* * *

 

Jean told me to wear long sleeves, to hide my weakness he said. What weakness? A bullet wound? I should wear that with pride, I did get it for saving everyone after all. But I understand what he’s saying, so I do it.

My arm aches badly, writing for hours will do that, also a bullet wound kinda makes it worse. It has been slow to heal. More slow than it should.

The log journal containing information on each and every person on this ship lays on one of the mess hall tables with Jean sitting beside me and Reiner behind me as body guard. Jean’s just there to look pretty and to tell me to stop stressing my arm. I have half the mind to gag him (maybe later).

“Next.” It’s Thomas, I already know he gets to stay, but to avoid too much suspicion everyone gets an interview with yours truly.

“Jesus Christ Marco, gimme that.” Jean rips the book and quill from me after yet another failed attempt to hide a grimace. “I’ll write, fucking idiot.”

“Jean I write in-”

“Chinese so no one can read it but you, shut up I’ll write in French, translate it later or something I don’t care. Sick of your whining.” He says. I have _not_ been whining.

Sigh. Whatever, how many of us can even read anyway?

“Xià yīgè.” _Next._ The next pirate steps before me. I ask him the questions, translate for Jean who writes it down. The cycle repeats till all one-hundred and thirty-two people have been questioned. Not including my officers and Sasha’s girls that makes one-hundred and three people. Only fifteen made the cut.

I knew it was bad, but eighty-eight people? I think the longboats can carry seventy? I don’t know and don’t care, there’s an old one all cracked and only used for water gathering. They can have that one.

“Jean, what day is it?” I rest my chin in my palm, Jean squints at the paper writing what I said before.

“Fuck if I know.” I swear, fuck seems to be his favorite word. So vulgar. I’ve heard that people who cuss a lot are the most honest. I don’t think that’s really true. Jean and Levi can cuss better than a British cockney, yet they’re are excellent liars.

I’m about to turn around to ask Reiner, till I remember he abandoned his post when Bertholdt finished his turn.

“Why?” Jean inquires.

“No reason.” I tell him standing. My birthday is soon, I hope I get something. I guess a new crew can count as a present. I hope Jean draws me something. He doesn’t seem like a guy who does things for birthdays though. Sigh.

“How are we going to do this anyway? Just hoard everyone outside and throwing them over?” Jean asks. “What?”

“Not here.” There are people staring at us. He checks our surroundings quickly before setting those pretty eyes on me and nods.

Jean stretches his arms up over his head and arches his back to far his clasped hands touch the floor. He does not move his legs to balance. I’ve always wondered, how is Jean so flexible? How is his balance so - not perfect - but mastered? Yes mastered is the word I’m looking for.

“What?” he has a bit of trouble getting back up, he needs to bring his knees up to touch the underside of the table for leverage.

“Just wondering, how is it you are so bendy?” I’ve sat back down seeing as there’s really nothing we can do till Cilacap is in sight.

His cheeks turn pink and he quickly looks away looking slightly miffed. Did I say something wrong? “Just am I guess.” He’s hiding something. More research is required. And by research I mean bother him till he breaks.

“I don’t think so.” I tell him.

“What does it matter to you?” Jean growls.

“I like to know things about you.” Hmph. Fine. Be that way.

“Jean used to do ballet.” Armin joins. He’s holding a bowl of something steaming. Looks like oatmeal with whatever Sasha deems safe to put in it. Burgoo I think Sasha called it.

“Shhh!” “Ballet? What’s that?” Jean and I say, though he’s considerably louder than I. Ballet? What even, sounds French doesn’t it? Jean’s face has become a darker shade of pink.

“It’s a special type of dancing, it requires impeccable flexibility and balance. I saw a ballet once when my parents were still alive, it’s very beautiful. They tell stories through their bodies.” Armin explains. The whole time Jean is trying to shush him. I’m intrigued. Jean is a dancer?

“You can dance?” I can’t help the enthusiasm seep into my voice.

Jean gives up, his face is red now. Why is he so embarrassed? “Not anymore. I used to have lessons when I was little. It’s considered…” considered what? Tell me!

I look to Armin for an explanation. “It’s considered a woman’s thing, like sewing or cooking. Not very many men do ballet without being called fairies.” Fairies? That’s a term for liking men right?

“Did you enjoy it Jean?” I ask him. I won’t let this go, I want to know all about this foreign dance.

He shrugs. “It was fun. Lot of work though, the instructor would literally sit on you till your nose touched the knee. It hurts if you don’t stretch all the time and there’s a lot of injuries that happen.”

“Why did you stop?” Jean’s cheeks have faded in color.

He shrugs again. “Lost interest I suppose.”

Liar. But I drop it. There’s something not sad, but disappointment maybe in his voice. Maybe he wanted to continue but was stopped by something. Did the disease make him stop, or was it something else? His sister’s suicide? Or just bullies?

It must have been at a time period for Armin to find out. Actually I don’t think so, from how Jean speaks of his late mother, it seems she had a habit of talking about her son a lot. Like ‘Jean just started pooping on his own!’ or ‘I can’t believe how fast he’s growing, you know he just recently mentioned growing chest hair!’ must be universal. I remember my mother fawning over silly things like that.

* * *

 

“A-ah!” he’s arching up against me, hands fisted tightly in the white sheets. Both our breathing is labored to the point of choking on air. “Mmm ah!” not a single actual word has spilled from his mouth since this has started. It’s not like him, he should be at least cursing by now.

I don’t remember how this started.

I’m to wound up in pleasure to think more on this mystery.

I’m _inside_ him. He’s tight and warm and soft. How did this happen? _When_ did this happen?

“Marco.” There is no pleasure laced in his voice like before, _I_ _t’s_ raspy likes he’s got a sore throat, like he’s sick. _It_ startles me forcing eyes to open and mouth to gape in shock.

I hurdle backwards away from _It_ , the bed is no longer a bed but a small boat, the darkness of the room is suddenly bright sunshine. The boat rocks and I fall into the icy water while _It_ giggles. In a panic I swallow mouthfuls of fowl tasting water.

“Marco.” _It_ sings. I find ground and stand. No not again. “You’re supposed to say Polo.” The voice is behind me. I twirl around so hard stabbing pain shoots up the leg. I thought Other Jean had gone away. _It_ ’s pouting, arms crossed.

 _It_ slides toward me, crawling using its’ arms to walk, its’ long slimy tail leave grey sludge as it moves. No don’t come closer. Go away. Go away!

“You’re not real. It’s just a dream. You’re not real. I’m going to wake up right now.” I can’t move my legs, they’re stuck knee deep in wet sand. How? Stop. Wake up wake up wakeupwakeupwakuep!

It’s not working.

“Are you sure?” I want to throw up. _It_ breathes fowl air in my general direction.

“What do you want?” wailing sounds awful on me. “Leave me alone!” I box my ears and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Don’t you recognize me Love?” _It_ sounds hurt. Like I’ve slapped it in the face. Love? Jean would never- he hasn’t ever called me that. “How can you not!?” no please don’t yell at me. “It’s all his fault. Get rid of him!” get out of my face.

His? Him? I don’t understand.

“Get rid of Him before I do.” _It_ warns.

The world falls away and I’m falling.

* * *

 

I wake, just like that. Like someone’s poured ice cold water on me. Jean is sleeping in his own bed tonight. I’m glad, the shameful half erection I have after that nightmare isn’t something I’d like him to find out. Ever.

I thought those dreams has ceased after Jean had gotten better. I’d thought it was just my anxiety presenting itself in these fucked up versions of Jean and loss of control. They had stopped, why are they back now?

There’s this feeling, buried deep somewhere in my subconscious that says ‘you’ve had these dreams before’ but I can’t remember anything like that. But I know I have. Same dream different versions. Same entity different form. I don’t know.

I need to pee.

The floor creaks as I make my way through the room dodging piles of stuff neither of us have bothered to clean up. The loud creak of the door wakes Jean.

“Marco?” he rasps. It sounds so much like _It_ that for a second I believe I’m still dreaming. “What’re you doin’?”

“Just need to visit the privy pet.” I slip out thinking I should have shut the door. Oh well.

The trip to the privy is uneventful except the fact I stubbed my toe against some bucket and ended up cursing for a solid two minutes. The trip back however proves eventful to say the least. There’s whispering, suspicious whispering.

Carefully I slide down the wall toward the voices.

 _“-tonight.”_ I frown. Chinese. _“What about laundry man and the big monkey?”_ a different voice. Who are they talking about? _“Don’t worry about it, the Captain is a push over, once we have his pet he’ll do whatever we demand.”_ A chill goes down my spine.

Jean!

I sprint as quietly as I can back to my room. I _knew_ I should have locked the door, and like an idiot I left it open like an invitation!

A shadow enters my room. I’m too late! “Marco?” Jean sounds unsure, that shadow was twice my size. “Shit!” he yells. My thoughts exactly.

By the time I’ve made it inside the shadow has Jean in a full body lock, Jean’s skinnier smaller body is practically engulfed in the other man’s body. He’s struggling, pulling on the thick arm, cursing in three languages. He suddenly goes still with a gurgle.

NO! “JEAN!”

I run to him.

 _“Not a step closer or I slit his pretty neck.”_ I stop, moonlight filtering through the open window reflects off the dagger pressed into Jean’s neck. The man stands forcing Jean to stand on his tip toes to keep the blade from digging into his neck any further. Jean’s chest heaves, he’s still got a death grip on the arm.

 _“Let him go.”_ I put as much authority into my voice as I can. He laughs, shoulders shake. Jean’s eye widen as the blade digs deeper, tiny droplets of blood start forming.

 _“You are no longer Captain_ , Chonky.” Shang says as he steps into the light. This man has always stirred trouble. Always so rude. I never called him such names. Jean’s brows pull together, master of insults yet he doesn’t know this one.

Shang starts walking forward, I stand my ground. _“Walk with me, no funny business or the little frog gets it.”_ Jean barely contains his whimper.

I have nothing to say to him. Shang jerks his head for me to lead the way.

Outside is foggy. Connie lays in a puddle of blood by the hatch, he must have tried to warn me before they got him. For a terrifying moment I think he’s dead, but his tiny chest moves and he groans. Oh thank god. Bertholdt is on his knees blood pouring from his nose, he’s going to have a black eye before the night is over; he has at least three guys keeping him pinned to the ground.

The lock on the weapon storage has been broken clean off.

I catch sight of Sasha up in the lines, she’s gone in an instant. There must be something planned- OW!

Someone jabs me with a tip of a sword. “Hùnxiě'er! _Move it, over there.”_ _Half-breed_ he called me. Well, he isn’t wrong. Still hurts though. He prods me toward the end, forcing me to climb the stairs to the quarter deck, past the helm and the mizzen mast. The waters are as black as they were in my dream.

I feel my hands shake. This has to be a dream.

It’s not, I know it isn’t. Everything is so surreal, like I’m not part of what’s happening but an innocent bystander watching a village burn knowing that I can’t do a damn thing to help or stop the raging fire.

Jean whimpers again as Shang moves forward without warning causing more blood to drip down his long slender neck. He could fight back, I could kill him, but not when something so delicate as a human neck as hostage. The mutineers have thought long about this. I can’t imagine why they’re so unhappy. They are well paid and cared for. They’re free to go when they please. Most have been seasonal, extra cash for the family or sweethearts. No one stays long. No one.

Things have been going downhill ever since the storm- no ever since I acquired Jean. Maybe it’s him that’s cursed. Maybe that’s the reason for all the misfortune we’ve had since we met. _No_. It can’t be. That’s not fair, it’s _not_ Jean. Things have been getting steadily worse since I went independent. Like a steady decline, so slight you don’t realize you’re going down till you’re nearly vertical and tripping- hurdling down to your doom.

What do they want? What can I possi- AH FUCK!

I crumple to the ground, laughter follows Jean calling my name. He curses, I guess because he’s held back. I can’t believe I let my guard down. Fa, a wispy man totally just punch me in the ribs as hard as he could. Right on my injury. It burns. It hurts. I can feel stitches being ripped loose with every heaving breath. It’s hard trying to keep out the tears. Damn, it was healing so well too.

 _“Be a good Captain and stay down.”_ Fa teases kicking me back down as I try to stand.

 _“Pitiful fowl creatures!”_ I growl. I don’t know what else to say. _“Cowards.”_ What can be said? I’ve never dealt with a mutiny before. I don’t know how to deal with it. It’s scary, all these big strong men twice my size, strength and age holding deadly weapons ready to hack us all into pieces with no remorse, for something so silly as a boat. A boat that was a gift for myself because sometimes when you have a little extra cash it’s completely okay to splurge a little.

 _“Give me command and I’ll let your precious friends go.”_ Shang demands. I know a liar when I see one. He’ll let them live alright, just not _live_. They’ll be slaves to them, the woman raped; the men beat. Sold off for profit or whatever they have planned once they’re bored with them.

Pirates. I spit on the ground next to Shang’s and Jean’s feet. Jean pulls a scowl, a ‘that could have hit me asshole’ scowl. It lightens my heart that despite bleeding and being at knife point, he’s still the same person. “Cao ni zu zong shi ba dai!”

That little stunt gets a back hand and another slam to the bullet wound. No regrets. But holy poo did that hurt. Jean doesn’t understand, a foreigner wouldn’t. In my pained daze I feel myself being dragged to the railing and thrown against it. Goddammit, will you stop that? I’m not fighting back, goodness.

 _“Tie him up. Kill all who resist.”_ There’s a roar of cheers and I can hear the squelching of flesh being torn and screams of those so few loyal men. I don’t understand why they are keeping me alive (not that I’m complaining mind you).

Harsh hands grab my upper arms, my wounds scream in protest as once again I’m thrown against the railing, this time I’m tied securely, injured arm twisted painfully, rope digging painfully into my torso. I’m such an idiot. I should have listened, should have heeded the signs.

Shang steps closer, throwing Jean on top of me. Jean scrambles for a purchase I assume to get up and fight or run but Shang grabs him by the hair (it’s getting long) and yanks him back so harshly he’s arched in a painful looking position.

 _“I don’t see how he appeals. He looks like a horse. Is his boy pussy that good? Maybe I’ll have fun with your little_ gōng gòng qì chē.” Shang tugs and tugs till Jean’s growls turn to tiny whimpers. Jean is desperately trying to find any leverage to harm his assailant but being pinned between a mountian, me and the ship’s railing, he can’t.

Anger boils. _“Don’t you dare touch him!_ Diǎo sī!” poor Jean doesn’t know enough Chinese to understand us, making his fear ever more righteous.

Shang’s laugh is cut off by an arrow narrowly missing the three of us. The arrow lands at our knees. It shuts us all up as we tense. I don’t know who that was for- wait a minute. That’s Sasha’s arrow. I’m going to kiss that woman. I’m going to make her queen of the freaking ocean.

Shang drags Jean back up by the hair, Jean’s screeching to let go, slipping to hurried French I think there’s even a little German in there, till he’s once again stopped by the dagger to his throat. It digs in deeper, fresh blood oozes like hot wax from the blade.

Shang desperately looks around – up, down, sideways, behind – but he can’t find the shooter. He’s shouting demands. I can’t hear them over the blood pounding in my ears and the rush of the wind. All I hear are garbled words and Jean’s struggling, I look to him, he stills, eyes wide, they flicker to the mast closest to us. I follow, there, behind the sail just hidden by the topsail yard- an arrow and a creamy hand. Sasha.

Jean’s always had excellent vision.

A flicker of white and darker than night. I spy it – him – Levi. It has to be.

Jean’s eyes haven’t left from Sasha’s hand. I watch as his polished amber flicker to Fa, standing in a semi-crouched position, long dagger in hand as he too searches for the threat. Sound stills, like the fog sucked all noise from the air.

“Ich werde diesen Stecken so weit in deinen Arsch schieben, dass du zur Vogelscheuche wirst!” breaks the silence. What the hell? Is that Eren? What does he think to- oh he’s the distraction! But, what of Eren? Won’t he get hurt? Battle cries ring out below.

With a pained cry that startles the hell out of me, Fa falls to his knees clutching his chest, an arrow embedded deeply within. He falls forward getting blood all over my nice deck.

“Bâtard suicidaire. Ah merde!” Jean’s words start out as a scoff but ends in a cry. Shang’s hands are shaking with anger, even in the gloom I can see how white his knuckles are. Jean’s neck is starting to look like minced meat.

 _“Call them off! Call the little sheep fucker off or I’ll kill him!”_ Shang demands. I’m frozen, there’s nothing I can do, literally, they’re working on their own. I’ve never truly had authority over them, they follow me because I’m nice and let them do as they please, because I’m fair, because they like me, because I’m their friend. Not because I’m a leader. Or anything of the sort. Truth is I think Jean would make a better leader than me, he knows what needs to be down without being told or clued in.

I just stare dumbly at him. Dimly I’m aware of Jean staring intently at the white hand. He nods once, fear evident in his entire being. It happens fast. Too fast for me to process. I think I blink it happens so fast.

Jean is clutching his neck, near hyperventilating Shang bellows in agony, an arrow embedded in his torso. Sasha missed, no she didn’t. Jean was in the way. Jean is gurgling, coughing, cursing. Levi appears from the dark and round house kicks Shang down the stairs.

Oh gods. Jean. Jean.

Levi unties me and I’m up and to him but my pet waves me off.

“’M f‘en. Go. Nu’ bad.” I don’t understand what he’s saying.

Levi pulls me away from him, yellow and blue blur past me to Jean. It’s Armin with medical supplies. He’s on Jean like a fly to honey.

Okay, yes. Jean is fine. He’ll be fine. But there’s so much blood.

I turn around toward the main deck with Levi to a spectacular view. I’ve never seen anyone fight so fiercely before. Eren is like a wild animal. Fierce and feral. He’s got cuts everywhere, clothes are torn yet he does not stop. Like a rapid wolf. I dare say it’s beautiful.

Mikasa is by his side always, sending men flying away like she was born to kill. Everything looks so easy to her. Graceful and precise. A perfect contrast to Eren’s wildness.

“Měilì…” _Beautiful._ I wish I had bedded Eren. Holy molly. You know maybe if I get Jean and Eren together long enough to-

“Get your ass in gear!” Levi harshly shoves me.

Yes. No time for that now. Later.

I join the fray, I’ve come to realize quickly that my swordsmanship is rusty. Doesn’t mean I’m not kicking butt though, I was trained by the best (cough, Ymir, cough).

It doesn’t take long before the mutineers are either dead, dying or subdued.

“What should we do with them?” Reiner asks loudly and coldly. He’s got numerous cuts and bruises, nothing fatal, he looks like he got in a fight with a kitten to be honest. He also looks mad as hell.

“They are bleeding. Throw them over board.” I throw my borrowed sword down (my own tucked away in my room). “Let the sharks have these pigs.” I spit at their feet. They wail and plead.

‘Please we were only following orders!’ I snort. Please. If you were, Shang would have never rose to power. Dumb asses.

Levi, Mikasa, Bertholdt and Reiner systematically start throwing people overboard. Their screams and pleas fall on deaf ears. Mutiny against me will you?

No one sees Shang.

I thought he was dead.

No one sees him pull out a pistol.

No one but Jean who screams my name.

I turn, eyes widen seeing Shang take aim.

Jean yells something. Shang spits out a word, “Zázhǒng!” Jean picks up a sword.

He swings, there’s a loud bang, I blink.

Pain erupts somewhere high in my torso.

I can’t breathe. It hurts.

Red clouds my vision, I stumbling. Something rolls away, it’s kinda roundish. It has a face.

Fingers inspect the damage. They come off bright red.

“Marco!” I don’t know who said that.

“Ouch.”

Red turns black and I fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> refers to a Chinese with white/European personality/physical looks [Shang]  
> Fuck the 18 generations of your ancestors [Marco]  
> Slut- literally "public bus". Used for a woman who sleeps around, as in "everyone has had a ride" [Shang]  
> Unprivileged nothing [Marco]  
> I'm gonna shove this stick so far up your ass you'll be a scarecrow! [Eren]  
> Suicidal bastard. Ah shit! [Jean]  
> Mixed seed, half-caste, half breed, hybrid, illegitimate child. There are proper terms for children of mixed ethnicity, but this is not one of them. [Shang]
> 
> I got these Chinese (mostly mandarin) insults from wiki and yahoo answers and stuff so I apologize if they're not accurate or not right. also, I totally recommend doing this if you're feeling sad because insults from other cultures are greatly amusing and hilarious. like an Arabic one I found "May your religion have 1,000 dicks" I'm sure with them it's greatly insulting but to someone outside that culture that's fucking hilarious.
> 
> as always THANK YOU SO MUCH ILY and please correct me on any culture/language mistakes.
> 
> i'm menstralcycling on tumblr and track fic: Oceans Away.


	19. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I scared a lot of people
> 
> have some nice things.

A few days ago, a man named Samuel tried to cop a feel. I was content on ignoring the fucker. Marco thinks I lead him out and dumped him in the ocean. He thinks I stabbed him fed him to Sharky. That’s not entirely true.

Samuel cornered me during the night watch I had no idea we shared till his erect dick was digging into my ass. Like what the actual fuck makes you think that’s even remotely okay? I elbowed him off and told him (kindly) to go fuck a goat if he’s so desperate. Samuel didn’t like that I didn’t just ‘give it up’.

Like I don’t even ‘give it up’ to Marco, what the fuck makes you think I’ll do it for you?

At this point in time, I’ve become weary enough to carry a nice shiv with me at all times. Samuel again pursued me, ‘Captain’s whore’ he called me. Honest to god I did not actually mean to kill the guy. He was so _insistent_ and _annoying_. Going so far as to try and rape me that I just snapped in an angry way and took out the shiv and stabbed him in the neck.

Blood splurged everywhere. I got scared. I don’t like blood. In a panic I just, kinda lightly pushed him away and he stumbled up and over. A small splash the last I heard of him. Lost my shiv that night too.

I think I have a fear of blood. Every time I see it I just freeze and everything just locks into place. I can’t move and I start hyperventilating. When I think about it after everything has calmed down, I find it silly and stupid. Blood. Of all things to be afraid of, blood is the thing I get.

“I knew that boy was trouble when he walked into my shop.” Master Chang complains, knocking me out of horrid memories past. He mutters shit in Chinese I don’t bother trying to translate with my limited knowledge.

Neck is raw as fuck. Never thought something can hurt so much. It looks like someone came at me with a cheese grater. Bastard couldn’t keep his hand still. I’m lucky it didn’t cut any deeper. I’m still incredibly woozy from all the blood I’ve lost.

“Ow.” I flinch away from Chang who clicks his tongue in an annoyed manner. Poor old man. Really. He didn’t sign up for this shit. Neither did I, neither of us signed up at all. He’s dabbing some nasty smelling green paste in the slices. I’ll have some ugly scars.

He leaves Eren to help me do the bandages to check on Marco.

Marco.

Last night was so crazy.

Every time I close my eyes I see Marco’s face the moment I called out to him. He just looked so dumbfounded. Staring at his shooter like some lost child. Staring at his bloody shaking fingers like an infant does when it discovers its’ toes. Stumbling like some drunk, the blood blooming on his chest like a time lapsed rose.

The idiot.

No one thinks he’ll live.

The way he just- fell over. “Ouch.” He said. Like he just stubbed his fucking toe. What the fuck goes on in that shitty brain of his? ‘Ouch’. Tch.

Eren sports a shit ton of injuries. Nothing as serious as my neck or Bertholdt’s broken nose. There’s one black eye that nearly shuts his eye closed, the bruise spreads down to his chin. Christ, wouldn’t be surprise if he lost a few teeth. He’s got gashes and a few broken fingers. Okay, so maybe he’s as bad as us.

I don’t know much that has happened with me passing out shortly after the last mutineer was thrown over and Marco fell over. God. Marco just stared blankly, I thought he was dead, the spark in his eyes was gone. The little flints of swamp green that you can only see if the sunlight hits his eye just right- gone. His face went lax as he closed his eyes. The panic the remaining of us went through making sure Marco didn’t actually die pushed me over the brink.

I collapsed a hell a lot less gracefully than Marco. He fell like a feather. I fell like a bag of bricks.

“Get some sleep.” Eren says gently. His voice rasps, there are finger-like bruises on his neck. Jesus.

“I can’t.” I say. I really can’t. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep.

“Try.” He presses.

“How is he?” my throat hurts. Probably shouldn’t be talking.

“Don’t get your hopes up. Just because we found the bullet- a half inch from his heart. We can’t get the bullet out. Not without-” Eren can’t finish his thoughts.

“Do it.” I say. “He’s going to die anyway.” I shrug.

“Jean-”

“Just do it. Whatever you need to do. If you leave the bullet in, he dies. If you take it out, he could die. What’s the difference?” I want some tea.

Eren’s working eye searches me. Flickering, trying to find something. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him. “Alright.”

I watch in silent morbid fascination as they carefully haul Marco onto a medical table brought in from the depths of the ship. I’ve never seen it and I like to think I’ve explored every bit of this shitty tub. Levi helps Master Chang strap Marco in just in case he wakes up and does something stupid like panic. A strap goes over his lower torso, a strap at his pubic area, straps to hold down his wrists and ankles.

Marco is pale. So pale. Freckles stand out against white skin. Where did his sailors’ tan go?

His shirt had been cut away prior to the table, his chest bare to the world. Is it weird to notice how Marco’s nipple harden? How goose bumps raise dark hairs across his exposed skin? He looks so cold. Black hair fans over his shut eyes.

He needs a haircut. We all need a haircut. Eren’s has gotten so long he can tie it in a tiny pony tail. I feel stupid to say it looks charming on him. The way his longer bangs fall into his face is kinda cute.

The half corpse groans. What a bad time to wake up Marco. You have such shitty timing.

“Jean?” fucking A. Don’t you worry about yourself at all?

“He’s fine Captain. We need you to go back to sleep, we haven’t gotten that bullet out yet. It’s better you’re not conscious for this.” Eren rasps. Marco tries desperately to focus his vison, I can tell by the way his eyes flicker and waver, like the room is spinning or everything is like looking through stained glass.

He coughs. There’s blood on blue lips.

Oh god.

I can feel warmth travel down my cheeks.

Levi holds a bottle of something and up ends it on some cloth. He puts it over Marco’s face.

“Deep breath brat.” Levi’s voice is soft, soothing. Marco must know what it is, he’s trying to turn away from it. He’s going to hurt himself.

Idiot.

I’m suddenly by his side, when did I get up? Marco sees me and smiles. Fucking smiles. I cup his cheek and turn his head back toward the cloth. Marco makes a questioning noise.

“It’s better this way.” I tell him. I try to sound comforting, but I sound flat. Unfeeling. Indifferent. I try and make up for it by stroking his freckled cheek. It seems to relax him as Levi is able to firmly place the damp cloth over Marco’s nose and mouth. It doesn’t take long for Marco to give up not breathing.

Everything once again goes lax.

Master Chang enters, sharp things in a bin. I can’t watch. I stare at Marco’s limp hand, his boney wrist. I’m not in their way so I stay. I can’t move from this spot even if I tried.

It’s awful, listening to skin being cut into, the squelching sounds of living tissue being moved around. The murmur of the three surgeons (neither actually qualified to do this) as they cut into Marco’s chest. He’s going to have an ugly scar too. The small clanks of instruments being put down. Then finally a dull _thunk_ that bounces and a collective sigh.

Against my better judgment I look. Oh god why did I have to look? There’s a hole in the middle of his chest, twice the size of the original. Skin has been peeled back. That’s nasty, it takes everything in me not to break down into hysterics. I see shiny white bone, it’s got a big dent in it, with spider web like cracks coming out the dent. No, not a dent a hole. I bet if I look hard enough I’ll see Marco’s pumping heart. I don’t want to see.

“No fragments. We’re lucky, his sternum stopped the bullet, any further and it would have found a new home in his heart.” Levi comments. His hands are covered in blood. He’s rinsing them off with a distasteful scowl in a bucket of water.

“We need to close him up, he’s bleeding an awful lot.” Eren comments also rinsing his hands off.

Master Chang shakes his head. His hands are clean. Did he even do anything?

Why are they being so nonchalant? Is Marco in the clear?

Chang sighs and begins to clean up the blood from Marco’s torso. He places skin back in its place and sews them down. He re-sews his other bullet wounds and does the nasty green paste thing. I watch. I watch because I can’t look away from old liver spotted hands as he does his work.

“How is he?” I croak.

“As well as to be expected.” Chang whispers. I don’t think he thinks Marco will make it. It’s an awful lot of blood, there might be bone fragments. He could get an infection. You can’t amputate a chest.

Eren’s hands are clean when he pulls away the bed’s blankets. Levi is free of blood when he picks Marco up like a delicate flower and sets him in bed. All bandaged and ready to be in a shit ton of pain when he wakes up. _If_ he wakes up.

It’s me who tucks Marco in while the others clean up their doctoring shit.

Levi set him in _my_ usual spot. Marco has the wall now. I guess it’s for the best. That way I can be in and out of bed without disturbing him too much.

Eren goes on and on about how I shouldn’t do this or that. Don’t turn your head too much. Don’t sleep like this. Don’t bother Marco. Don’t do this, blah blah blah. I tune him out and stare at Marco.

You know, two months ago I would have jumped for joy to see him like this.

Now I feel empty.

Have I grown? Or have I just stopped giving a shit? Or… is it something more?

“Get some sleep.” Eren tells me. Orders me.

What else can I do?

Marco does not even twitch as I slide into bed with him. It takes longer than I’d like to find a position that doesn’t hurt like hell. Fuck that asshole who tried to kill me.

And not in the fun way.

* * *

 

Marco and I keep missing each other. We’re never awake at the same time I mean.

Eren just keeps giving us both Mama’s Little Helper for the pain, it makes me terribly drowsy.

* * *

 

Something is stroking my cheek. It feels like a finger or something. The finger moves down my jaw and I lose feeling, but I think it caresses the neck bandage, I can feel it a little, like how you feel people touch your clothes. Eren cut some canvas strips to go over the original bandages so they’re extra stiff. This way I don’t flop my neck around and cause further injury.

Pretty clever really.

The hand, ah it must be Marco, moves back to my cheek.

Wait.

Marco?

Lids flutter open, the light isn’t blinding, must be early morning. I sit up instead of trying to twist my neck.

“You’re awake.” Marco states the obvious.

“You’re not dead.” He chuckles and retracts his arm. “No one thought you would make it you know.” My voice is soft.

“Did you think I was going to die?” there’s a smile in his voice.

“Yes.” It’s the truth. It’s why I told Eren to just go for it.

“Oh.” The smile is gone.

I look down at him, “The man, he said a voice told him to do it. That the voice told him to get rid of me. Of you.”

“Who? Shang?” his brows pull together, he tries to get up but thinks better of it and lays back down. “What do you mean he said someone told him to do it?”

“Yeah. He said it when he came at me and again before I cut his head off.” I swallow painfully. This is all crazy bullshit, the guy has to be delusional.

Marco is quiet.

“Do. Do you believe him?” he asks finally. He struggles to get up again, I don’t help him.

“Not really, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a voice.” Truthfully I don’t know what to think anymore. How many times have I nearly fucking died in the last year? Four times? The fire, my head bashed in, the storm, the sickness, the mutiny. Shit, by this logic I only have five lives left.

Speaking of nine lives, “Have you seen Filou? I haven’t seen him in so long.”

Marco successfully sits up, “No I haven’t.” he says with a shake of his head. Hmm… Maggie was asleep under the stove last night, and Levi’s brat was bothering Armin last time I saw him.

Oh well he’ll turn up. “I’ll go get breakfast.” I leave before he can protest.

Killing people takes a toll on you. I’m no different. I just feel so goddamn empty. At random times I feel so overcome by negative emotions that everything stops functioning. It’s how Eren and Armin find me. Crumpled against a wall leading toward the kitchen shaking like a fucking leaf and dry sobbing. I can feel their gazes on me. Full of pity or empathy I don’t care which.

Wish people would stop fucking staring at me.

“How do you deal with it?” the question is directed to Eren, I know he’s killed before any of us, how does he deal with taking a life? And Armin, I know he’s done it before. How did he do it?

“You just do.” Eren says there’s a shrug in his voice. Yeah, real fucking helpful.

Armin remains silent.

“Listen Jean, Shang deserved it. He nearly killed you and Marco, he had dozens of other people killed.” Eren’s hand find my shoulder, shaking it gently.

“And my mother?” god, I will never forget her gentle smile before I pulled the trigger. Eren’s hand falls away, he doesn’t have an answer.

“What else could you have done?” Armin moves to stand before me. “Killing isn’t such a big deal when you think about it. Sasha said she sees her enemies as prey that’s how she deals. I accepted what I did. Mikasa just understands the way the world works. And Eren,” he looks at Eren I don’t follow the look. “He fights.”

The trembles stop allowing me to stand tall again. “Thanks.” I guess it helped a little. They’re right though. There’s nothing can be done, I can’t turn back time and stop Marco from being shot, I can’t prevent the almost-mutiny, I can’t control the fact my mother’s dead.

Control. I’ve never had that, not once in my life. Not when asshole bullies picked on me for being fat. Not when papa died with a jaw three times the size of his head and a leg that bent three ways. Not when Trost panicked and became an inferno. Not when Marco set his eyes on me and certainly not when I started having feelings for him.

I’m not even queer.

What the fuck is wrong with this world?

“Jean? You here for breakfast?” Sasha’s sweet voice brings me out of it.

“Y-yeah. Marco’s awake.” Her face beams. How pretty, Sasha really is such a pretty girl.

“Finally!” she cheers. “He’s been asleep for so long! Two days, he must be so hungry.” Who whoa whoa, back up, _two_ days? You mean he hasn’t woken up that long? And all this time I thought we were just missing each other. Huh. “Food isn’t done yet, not for a little bit.” She gets a sad look on her face, “Some of the girls didn’t make it so I’m a little short staffed.”

“I can help.” She looks at me like I’ve grown another head. “My mother taught me.” I smile gently at her, geeze, how long has it been since the last time I cooked anything?

“Okay.” She shrugs and directs me around.

* * *

 

Marco is still sitting up but playing with Filou when I finally come in with our breakfast. He looks up and positively beams angel kisses and unicorn shit. I hope I’m not blushing.

“I thought you forgot about me! And look who decided to show up!” Marco can’t lift the cat without moaning in pain. You know, most people don’t realize how much your neck and chest muscles have to do with arms till you take significant damage to either. Also walking too, you have any idea how much my neck hurts just from walking?

“Food wasn’t ready so I stayed to help. I have a feeling Sasha’s girls will be leaving after we land.” I find the tray thing with legs, it’s under the bed for some reason.

“That’s too bad.” Marco tries to help, but I beat him back. No use, he can’t lift his arms without his eyes watering. “It’s June tenth.” He says, a faraway look in his eyes.

“So?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

 

June fifteenth rolls by and we’ve made it to Cilicap. Surprisingly none of the girls left. Marco had Levi sign some crew on so now we have fresh meat. They’re mostly weird people who speak like a million different dialects of Hindu or something. Either way Bertholdt has become a translator.

I spent most the day shopping really, I’ve been trying to find something special, it’s actually really hard to find considering it should be so common… okay maybe not but how hard can it be??

Marco spends most his time in a state of depression. I know why. But I don’t do anything about it, not yet.

Also _Sina_ is on our ass again. They don’t fire on us and we don’t fire on them. They just follows us at a close distance. Marco waits till we’re on open water heading away from Java before ordering to weigh anchor and let them board us and have Commander Erwin (and only him) invited to our quarters. He says that now ‘our’. I don’t know how I feel about it.

I change into a flashy Hanfu and help Marco dress as well. Eren insisted Marco wear a sling to lessen the strain on his right arm even though it’s mostly healed now. Or something. Marco looks so damn tired. I run around hiding things and cleaning since Marco can’t really do anything. I help him sit down at the Japanese table (still fucking useless) and sit with him. I’m back to pretending I have an empty head, a thoughtless little pet. Sigh I don’t want to.

Armin leads Mr. Massive Brows in. Seriously, and I thought Eren’s eyebrows were intense.

“I apologize sir,” Marco gestures for the man to sit down. He looks ridiculous sitting at this table. “we had to deal with a rather, a rather… bàolì mutiny. Look what they did to poor Jean.” I whine and huddle closer to Marco while Erwin eyes my neck.

“Mutiny?” Erwin looks genuinely concerned.

“Yes. It’s fine now, got rid of the old and got some new.” Marco waves his hand tiredly. “Violent, that’s the word.” Erwin quirks a brow, “Sorry, sometimes I have a hard time remembering certain words in English.”

“Quite alright. Now why don’t we get down to business?”

“Yes please, I want you off my ship and away from us as soon as possible.” Marco goes to reach for the tea pot, he hisses in pain. “Pet, be a dear and pour us some tea.”

I look at him like I’m trying to understand what he’s saying, then slowly do as he asks.

“Why are you so keen on me Commander?” Marco asks after a hefty sip of tea. I think it’s green tea. “I’m really not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

“You’re hurt.” Erwin states, Marco’s hanfu has slipped enough to show the stark white of the bandages around his torso.

“Really? How could you tell?” Marco’s sarcasm is the best, holy shit. “Yes I am hurt, you and that she-male shot me and the leader of the mutiny that nearly killed my beloved pet and several other of my dear friends, and shot me in the chest.”

Erwin is quiet. “Hanji and I apologize.” He says. I shuffle down to lay my head in Marco’s lap. God this is boring. I like it better when Ymir is around, at least I don’t have to pretend to be stupid. “I’m here to recruit you, and your friends. You see, the Recon Corp. don’t have very many ships left with capable captains and when a good friend of mine said there’s was this kind young man sailing a well-trimmed junk I thought it would be the perfect candidate.”

“No.”

It is at this moment Levi walks in.

“Erwin.” He greets. There’s hostility in everything that is Levi, to his voice to his stance. (When isn’t he though?)

“Levi.” There’s a strange smile to the man’s lips. He’s actually really glad to see Levi.

Levi comes to sit and pours himself some tea. He wrinkles his nose as he drinks. Fuckin’ weirdo can’t hold his cup right. That bothers me more than it should.

 _“How’s the neck?”_ Levi asks pointing vaguely in my direction.

I cast my eyes down, pretending I’m a shy and cute. _“Fine.”_ It really is fine, I can hardly feel it right now. (Never mind I’m more drugged up than a bum).

“Commander.” Eyes come back to Marco. “My answer is no and it will always be no, but if you want I might be able to do small things for you. Possibly the illegal things your people can’t get away with. I’ve already agreed with the Empress to burn the disease ships…” Marco lets that trail off.

Erwin’s deep blue eyes slide from Levi and back to Marco. Filou bounds over knocking over Levi’s and Erwin’s tea, I laugh because I’m supposed to be thoughtless and the look on their faces is fucking hilarious. Levi is cursing in what I believe to be Italian mopping up the mess with a handkerchief he pulled out of thin air.

Filou jumps down to me where I nuzzle him. I’ve missed this fur ball.

“I’m sorry.” Marco sighs, there’s a smile there though. “Filou is much like his master.”

“Yeah, a fucking shit.” Levi grouses. _“Stop that shit brat you’re not fooling this asshole.”_

Sigh. Didn’t think so. I sit up with Marco pouting and Filou following the shiny fabric with a twitching tail. _“You try acting daft.”_ I put as much bite into those words as I can. “ _Pretend you’re stupid Jean. Don’t say or do anything Jean. Be a pet Jean. Fuck you guys.”_ I mock. Doesn’t mean I still can’t pretend I don’t know English.

“You are my pet.” Marco says. After Levi translates for him. And I said fuck you.

“I’ll accept your conditions Captain.” Erwin concludes standing. Wait, really? “If anything pops up, I’ll send you a bird.” People still do that?

“Sure.” Marco shrugs, then whines.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back Levi, I’ve- we’ve missed you.” Erwin almost sounds like he’s pleading.

Levi shakes his head in disapproval. “Not after what you did.”

The blond sighs deeply, shoulders slumping. He looks… sad. “We’ll always have Venice.”

Levi leads Erwin out, but I swear to god I saw a ghost of a smile on Levi’s lips. What the fuck just happened?

“Do you think they… you know…” Marco implies, he straightens his fingers and brings them together so they interlock several times.

“No… no…” yes. They totally did. Holy shit! I’m shaking my head in disbelief.

* * *

 

It’s June sixteenth. Fuck I’m so nervous. Marco is in bed, I know he is because I put him there after giving him a bath. I’ve taken extra care to clean myself… god.

God it feels weird. Feels oddly good though. Totally worth the money. Okay. Deep breath Jean. You can do this.

Alright. Hear goes nothing.

I enter our room, Marco is already laid down looking depressed. No one remembered because I suggested them not to. Asshole isn’t the only one who can manipulate people. I lock the door, closing sheer curtains as I slowly make my way to Marco. I’m stalling.

The new robe feels so soft. Pure silk. Red with gold thread. I know he likes me in red.

Marco hasn’t even looked at me.

I make it to the bed and just stand there like an idiot. I’ve replayed this in my head a thousand times. Nothing can prepare me for the real thing.

“Hey.” That was so fucking weak.

Marco frowns, ready to say something snarky probably, but double takes. He gasps quietly, taking me in. I can’t possible look that good. Christ am I blushing? Shit, I am. Abort, abort.

“He-hey.” He fucking croaks. He sits up, I help put pillows behind him so he’s propped up. “You look nice.” He says sadly. Oh come now Marco.

“Um.” God I’m so pathetic. I start to untie the belt and stop when I realize he isn’t looking at me. “S-so I bought some things the other day.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He scoffs

“Uh, I bought them for you.” Just fucking strike me down right now. Jesus fuck.

Marco looks at me. “What do you mean?” he’s hostile.

I widen my stance a little, ah shit fuck, that was… neat. I take a deep breath and grab Marco’s hand. There’s no way I’ll be able to say this out loud. The hold on my robe slips as I do so, leaving it to open. Marco’s gaze (which was on our linked hands) now slide to the opening. He gasps again, eyes like saucers. His breathing doubles.

“J-Jean.” Him staring at me erection is making me uncomfortable.

“That’s not all.” I mumble. His head whips to my face, mouth open. Christ my face is on fire.

“Not all?” he squeaks.

I nod weakly and step closer, out a knee on the bed. I have to pause to catch my breath, ah sheeit. That’s good. Really good. Then swing a leg over so I straddle Marco, I still have his hand. I’m so fucking nervous holy shit. I guide his hand under the robe and behind me. His gaze won’t leave my face. What if he doesn’t like it? What if he rejects me?

I move his fingers till they press against it. At first Marco looks confused, bottom lip stuck between teeth, he presses a little. I gasp. He suddenly understands.

“Jean.” Wonder is in his voice. He touches around the plug, fuck I can’t believe I talked myself into this.

“Haha. Happy birthday.” I laugh weakly.

Marco has fucking tears in his eyes.

Fuck you man, I’m the one with a wooden plug up his ass.

He forces me down for a long agonizingly slow kiss.

So far so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if they had butt plugs back then. they prolly did tbh.
> 
> also there's like a 98% chance that Marco wouldn't have had a chance it that era. but I don't have the heart to kill him.
> 
> ALSO I JUST READ CHAPTER 65 SOMEONE HOLD ME, NOT MY SON
> 
> Edit: so sometimes one word paragraphs don't show up, so sometimes I have to go back and add them because this site can be really dumb sometimes. just saying incase someone looks back and doesn't remember something being in here


	20. Happy Birthday To Marco Indeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE'S YOUR PORN YOU SICK MOTHER FUCKERS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS OMFG. it wasn't coming out right no matter how I wrote it. hopefully it came out okay. 15 pages and 7,222 words later...

Unbelievable.

This has to be a dream.

Fingers trace around the plug, Jean’s hole twitches, he fidgets on his knees breathing heavily.

Happy birthday to me indeed.

“How come you’re the only one who remembered?” I ask against his lips. Hands trace down his boney hips, smoothing down lightly hairy thighs. Jean sits down on my own thighs a low humming protest as the plug shifts inside him.

Mercy me.

He leans over landing his hands just below my armpits, “You’re not the only one who has the power of suggestion you know.” Jean’s voice is getting rougher.

You sly little fox. “That’s not very nice Jean.” I push and wiggle the plug. He _whines_ – oh gods. How long has this been in him to make him this wrecked already?

“I didn’t want any interruptions.” He exhales, rolling down to meet a push. I let go and fan my palms across his chest. Jean makes an annoyed noise. “My body is yours to do as you please tonight.” He covers my hands with his, squeezing and undulating his hips down so out arousal drag against each other. God _damn_.

Gulping, I can do nothing but ogle him- the way he bites his lip and shuts his eyes, muscle in his abdomen twitching like crazy. He suddenly rises up letting me go to take off the robe. “No.” I stop him, “Keep it on.” Jean’s eyebrow quirks upward, just one. No fair, how does he do that?

He’s so flushed. He’s so hard, pearl colored liquid gathers at his tip, any moment now it will escape his slit and slide down his length. I can’t wait.

Jean’s getting impatient. Restless.

That dick looks lonely. I grab his length (the lengthy inhale Jean takes is breath taking), the precum slips and tumbles, I watch it slide down following the contours of the surface till it pools where I lightly hold him- right at the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. “Mm.” Jean wiggles.

Chuckling I stroke with a strong grip, he moans. Jean goes for the ties of my pants. So eager. Thumbing his slit has him wiggling and moaning, getting my pants off leaves his mind entirely. Damn.

This _has_ to be a dream.

The throbbing in my chest that has nothing to do with the drumming of my heart tells me otherwise. It’s a constant pain I’ve unfortunately gotten used to; my arm still has that dull throbbing that makes even moving fingers difficult. It occurs to me that Jean must be feeling the same in his neck. He doesn’t look in pain (far from it) but then again, neither do I.

“Ah, ow.” Jean’s palms land flat on my shoulders causing my chest to stretch painfully.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He apologizes taking his hands away quickly. The mood is killed for a moment.

“What about you?” an injured arm reaches for his neck, he moves into it. There’s a new bandage, it makes his slender neck look longer.

“Oh! I completely forgot!” his eye shoot open. Forgot? How do you forget something like that? Please tell me, I’d like to know your secret.

Jean searches his robe, eventually finding something and holding it to my lips. I pull away, what?

“It’s a mandarin soaked in some pain killers.” He supplies. I’m still stuck on the fact that his robe has pockets. Why was a fragile food item in his _pocket_?

“Go on, it’s not poison I promise.” he purrs. You little tease.

The mandarin slice slips into my mouth, this shouldn’t be sexual. They way Jean’s eyes glint, the way his face is set, the way his fingertips drag against my lips as he pulls away.

Just like that the mood is back.

“Let’s work on getting you hard while it kicks in, yeah?” Jean _slithers_ down, bum high in the air for just a moment before bringing it down. Jean parts my legs and settles down on his elbows leisurely playing with the trail of hair at my naval.

I don’t know what to do. I’m breathing heavily, watching in fascination at how _sexily_ he unties my pants and pulls them down, his long fingers scratching over my bum and thighs. I’m half hard just by this. Gods. Ancestors. Whoever. I’m going to cum from him just _looking_ at me. The way he stretches my legs up to discard the rest of the trousers gives me a peak of his pretty flush cock, stuck between the man and the bed. Free him.

“Hard already?” he doesn’t sound surprised. He crawls closer, the texture of the pads of his fingers rough against my inner thighs (which fudging quakes). “Look at you.” He coos, one finger loosely wrapping around to stroke (pretend I don’t whimper like an infant) and letting go, leaving my erection to plop back down heavily. “So heavy.” He whispers to it.

Jean gets even closer, I bend my knees as he rises up just a little so he can slide his arms over my hips to rest on the bed, so now his arms straddle my waist. Before I have time to recover over the fabric of the robe ghosting by, Jean licks a long, flat, wet stripe up my length, easily taking in the head and lightly lapping at the slit.

_Shit._

Hands card through mousy hair. “Jean.” I moan. He responds my sucking and taking me in a little deeper.

The throbbing in my chest lightens in pain.

“Jean. Come on.” I pull on his hair, I want him _now_. He just goes deeper. He’s been practicing. I laugh at the thought. With _what_? Pfft.

Jean’s eyes glance up, even with a mouthful of dick he still looks irritated.

The pain is gone. Oh how lovely this feels. I’ve forgotten what pain free feels like.

“Jean.” I give him an extra hard tug. He lets go with a sloppy _pop_ and one more long wet lick.

“Hmmm?” he lays his head on my thigh, blowing hot air on my dick. Ooh, don’t do that.

He likes the way I twitch. But I like to see him twitch more.

Getting up I’m immediately shoved back. “No.” he purrs. _Purrs_. “You’ll just damage yourself Capitaine, let me take care of you.” He stresses that French word. I like it. I like it a lot.

Hell yes. Yeah, alright, alright. Fuck yes. Al- _fucking_ -right.

I lean back down; he moves pillows under me till I’m at a comfortable fifty degree angle. I mean it feels life fifty degrees. I don’t know. I’m about to have some bomb ass sex, I don’t care what degree I’m sitting at as long as Jean continues to purr sins.

Jean touches fingertips to my chest as he swings his legs back to straddling me. He acts as if that plug isn’t bothering him, but the shiver that runs down his being and the nearly silent grunt betrays his indifference.

“Well, Capitaine, are you going to play with your _chouchou_?” keep purring kitten, and I’ll play however you want.

“Why? When you’re doing so well yourself?” we’re close again, he’s leaned over so our erections touch. He squirms down on me, arousals squished pleasantly between our bodies. So glad the pain is gone, I wouldn’t be able to lift my arms to wrap around his shoulders, bare for the robe has slipped delicately to rest on his elbows.

“It’s no fun if I have to do _all_ the work.” Jean uses the weight of my arms as an excuse to lean further still, till his lips brush against my neck. “Let’s add some more spots.”

“Mmm.” Jean sucks hard on pulse points, rubbing my nipples more firmly than he’d normally should be- being as they’re covered with thick bandages. The roughness has me arching into him. “Please do.”

It’s not fair that he’s having all the fun. One hand goes to tug his hair restlessly, the other snakes down to push and pull that plug. Oh I wish I could see it, I can feel the way Jean fights the intrusion. Wanting it out but fighting to keep it in just as hard as I pull on it.

Jean gasps, moaning, rutting.

“That’s a good boy.” I praise. Jean loves praise. I once got him to cum just by telling him how good he was when he sucked me off once, he hardly even touch himself. “Are you gunna ride me zhì?” he grunts in displeasure for calling him a stallion, he doesn’t like those jokes. “Gunna ride me till I cum in this _greedy_ little hole?” I punctuate greedy with a forceful push of the plug.

“Uh-huh.” Jean swallows loudly, “Yes!” he shouts on the push. Whimpering as I force his hips to stop rutting by holding them down. He squirms and growls.

“Get me ready.” An order. Jean stares for a moment. “Go on, I can’t let you ride me if I’m not prepared can I?”

The blank stare turns into a lecherous grin. “Of course Capitaine.” The purr in his rough voice is back. I love it. Look at his body. The sins we’re creating right now damn well worth an eternity in that fiery hell those westerners are always going on about.

Jean reaches over, his chest in my face. How convenient. In a fit of mischief, teeth and lips find his pert nipple. I can feel Jean falter as I bite gently, sucking. He tries to pull away but I hold him by the ribs, holding him to my face while he frantically searches for the coconut oil in the nightstand drawer. I’m not sure if it’s safe to use for this kind of thing, but I’ve always used it and nothing bad ever happened, so I guess it’s safe enough. (Not like a dick supposed to go up your butt anyway).

I switch, he makes a sound of triumph that quickly mingles into moans. Thumbs smooth over the soreness Jean must be feeling as I pull my face away. And he said his nipples weren’t sensitive. Pssh.

“When you take that plug out to fit my cock in you, I want you to lean back so I can see that greedy hole of yours fight to keep it in.” I whisper in his ear.

“Of course.” He whispers back, his breath heavy against my face.

I can see his nerves presenting themselves now. Jean has been so confident and sexy till now. (He’s still sexy of course). The crease in his brow that never seems to go completely away furrows, he takes deep breaths as if trying to calm himself. I wait. He just needs time, my first time taking it like a man was just as nerve wracking. I completely understand.

He takes his time, kissing down my chest, nipping at my hip, and giving a quick lap to my dick before shuffling back so he can properly do his thing.

Jean uncorks the bottle, “Stuff smells weird.” He comments, nose wrinkling.

“It’s coconut oil.” By the way his face pulls tight, he must not know what a coconut is.

He shrugs uncaring and dumps the rest of the contents on my erection with no further ado.

“Jean! That was cold!” I complain, jumping.

He makes it up by lathering the oil, ah yeeess. “Mm ngh.” My arousal is kinda shiny by the time he’s deemed me slick enough.

“Okay.” Jean leans back, legs wide for me to see. He lifts his sleeves so they don’t get in the way.

“Go on.” Urging him causes Jean to scoff. “Take it slow, show me how much you love being filled.” I don’t know if he likes being filled, just because he’s hard doesn’t mean he likes it.

Jean collapses on his elbows, twisting and pushing and wiggling it inside him. I can see it, the way his sphincter desperately tries to push the plug out but sucks it back in with just a gentle push. Jean is a moaning mess, thighs shiver and quake.

“Marco.” He whimpers, he says no more but wiggles his bum.

“Alright. Come on, you’ve been so good. Pull it out, nice and slow, that’s it.” With a wet _pop_ that has us both flushing anew, the plug comes out, Jean tosses it away and crawls over to me. There’s a clank, the sex toy must have fallen off the bed.

I don’t care as Jean’s eager lips meet mine. It’s messy, we’re desperate, but eventually we find rhythm that fits us, Jean using kissing as a distraction for himself so he can sit down on my lower abdomen without feeling so nervous.

So cute.

I’m gunna cum so far up his pert little ass he’ll be shitting me for the next week. …Don’t tell Jean I just thought that, he’ll never let me touch him again.

We stop, chests heaving. Jean sits up, scooting back till he feels my cock bump him. “Here goes nothing.” He mumbles, so low I almost didn’t hear it.

I’m starting to get nervous too. I’m considerably _longer_ than that butt plug, sure he made sure to get one about as wide, but I don’t think he thought of length too much.

Jean rises up, taking me into his hand to steady us. He pumps, re-lubing and takes some excess to rub around his rim. I’m all for cautious, but come on Jean, I’m dying here.

Another deep breath on his part and he sinks down on me. I pay very close attention to his face, his eyes are lightly closed, deep quick breaths are taken – chest heaves. He swallows thickly whimpering. Jean stops moving, he isn’t even halfway yet, fists clench on my belly.

“Take your time.” Mercy, my voice is thick and rough. Shivers run down Jean’s spine.

He begins to sink again once he’s calmed himself, a little past halfway Jean stops again. Hands clench and unclench. I can’t tell if it’s a good sign or bad.

It’s taking everything in me not to buck up into him. He’s so _tight_ and _warm_. Stretched so wide around me, goodness. There’s no words to describe what I’m feeling.

Jean rises up suddenly, a low grunt escaping his slightly parted lips. My voice of concern is cut short when he sinks back down- _all_ the way down.

Head thrown back I moan, was not expecting that. Holy shoes, holy- oh my- _frick_.

He laughs breathlessly. Whether at my reaction or an ‘I did it’ laugh I don’t know.

“Tell me how it feels to be so full.” I ask of him mouthing his the exposed parts of his neck.

“Fe-feels strange. Like I need to ta-take a shit real bad. Merde. Mm. Strange, so str-stretched.” Jean confesses. Of course he’ll compare this beautiful and intimate act with going poop. Lord.

Jean wiggles, squeezing his inner muscles. “Ah, J-Jean, Mmm.” I don’t think he did that on purpose, but his eyes flash with the new found discovery. Oh no.

He engages us in another make out session. I love it, Jean has never been shy with his tongue. His hips begin to move- swirling, gyrating, like he’s testing the waters before jumping in. In the midst of my tongue down his throat and a left swirl Jean locks his body with a cry.

Found it. “You found it, didn’t you?” we’ve found it on occasions when he’d let me use my fingers on him, but this is the first time he’s had something like this stimulate it.

“Mmhmm. Fuck.” Jean’s quick breaths fan across my neck and shoulder. “Wa-what was it called again?”

“Prostate. Qiánlièxiàn in my language. I don’t know it in yours. Not sure what it does, but women do not have one.” Honestly Jean, this is no time for an anatomy lesson. I have my dick in your arse and am at my wits end, you’re lucking I am a patient man.

“Prostate. Stu-stupid name.” he backs away, just a bit, just enough to look at me. Gods, his eyes. They shine. “Okay.” He chuckles, it sounds border-line evil, “Je vais vous monter si fort que je vous ferai joui votre âme. _Capitaine_.” He what now? I don’t think I like that evil glint in his eyes.

The rhythm Jean starts is sloppy and inexperienced. It’s one-hundred percent A-Okay with me of course, as long as he’s moving those hips like a belly dancer, I don’t care how bad he’s thrusting himself.

It’s after a few meager thrusts do I realize he’s trying to find something that is comfortable and works with him. Oh, yeah oaky, that explains that weird wiggle he did.

“There we go.” he says in an exhale, a smirk playing on his swollen lips.

Jean’s hips cease their stuttering, unnecessary swivels become part of the act. Oh gods. He’s squeezing his muscle as he rises, relaxing them as he sinks back down, and doing a little swivel and hop once he sits. Oh shiiiiit.

Where is all that confidence coming from!?

“Je-Jean!”

Jean laughs. He’s humming- kinda, his moans are hums. Eyes closed, every once in a while he’ll open his mouth to let out a loud groan.

I lick my lips grab his hips and add my own tempo.

“Ngh! Marco. F-fuck yes.” Found it again.

“Th-that’s is pet. Good boy.” Fudgers this is amazing.

He’s getting louder, I am too. A particular sharp jab has him _wailing_. Jean’s reduced to muttering obscenities in French. Oh man. French is a very sexy language.

"T-trop bein. Baisez-moi fort. J-juste là! Oui!” I didn’t think Jean could get any louder.

Am I really fucking him so well he’s reduced to forgetting English?

Jean slams his hands down on my shoulders with a feral growl. I’m in awe. He looks so fantastic. Feral. I am so glad for that drugged mandarin right now. I have no control on how hard I wrench him down or a kiss. Fingers tangle in each other’s’ hair. I try to be careful with him, I can’t tug him too hard without pulling on his neck.

I can feel it. The slow burn of an oncoming orgasm.

Jean isn’t anywhere near his.

The bed doesn’t squeak, we’re loud enough for anyone to know what’s going on in here.

“Plus F-fort! S'il vous pl-plaît, m'faut- putain!” Jeans whines into my lips.

“Shénme?” I really don’t understand. What?

“I said fuck me harder.” He _growls_ near my ear before _biting_ my neck.

Oh hell.

Yes! “Suǒyǒu.” Anything, all of it.

He cries out as I pull him down harder. “Yes! Yes!” Jean sobs into my chest.

I can’t take it anymore, with a feral growl of my own I flip us, good arm propping me up as I just slam into him. Jean has the grace to yelp as he’s flipped and to cry out as he’s slammed into.

“Shit!” his legs wrap around my waist, fingernails scrape down my spine. “Fuck.” I’m not one to swear, but Jean’s got the right idea.

“Gonna cum.” I warn him. Boy is he in for a surprise.

“Mm. Do it.” Jean’s cock is leaking heavily, like a leaky faucet. “Allez-y Ca-Capitaine. Vous n'allez jouir d-dans mon petit cu-cul?”

I feel like he just challenged me. Whatever it was, challenge accepted.

Skin slaps, he pulls me into another long tongue lashing kiss. This Frenchmen needs to cum before I blow a gasket. A hand goes to his erection and begins pumping. It’s completely out of sync with our hips, but I don’t care. I can feel the twinge in my injuries but I don’t care. I want to see Jean cum with my dick up his ass, I want to see his pretty face when I cum so deep within him he’ll-

“Marco! I’m- ngh!” he goes quiet, the only sound is our heavy breathing and the slapping, messy wetness that comes with sex. His voice cracks, back arches so much our chests touch, hands fist sheets to tightly they’re brought up with his arch.

He’s suddenly so _incredibly tight_ around me that I’m forced into my own orgasm. It takes me on by surprise. I’m not so quiet as Jean was, more like a loud grunt of ‘Jean!’ that I muffle into his shoulder.

Hips stutter to a stop. Jean twitches, I can feel his thigh muscles ripple, I look back and see his toes furl and unfurl. His face a complete contrast to the rest of him, so serene and calm despite how hard his chest heaves and how loud his- our breathing is.

Heaven have mercy, I’ve seen Nirvana. Or something like that.

Jean nudges me to get off him, he pulls a grimace when I pull out. There’s a wet and a near silent _pop_ as I do.

“Fuckin’ nasty.” Jean grumbles. I flop boneless back onto my back. “Disgusting.” Jean must be feeling everything leaking out of him.

Haha, not even sorry.

“Feels like I got a bad case of diarrhea.” Jean comments, his voice is raspy.

“Pffft, pfft. Hahaha.” I can’t help it. I’m laughing so hard right now.

“Shang called you a chonky. What the fuck does that mean?” Jean says after his breath has slowed enough for casual conversation and I’ve stopped laughing.

“O-oh. It means some one of-of Asian descent who has um, white characteristics.” Man, my chest burns, there’s a dull ache that throbs, maybe sex wasn’t such a swell idea.

Wish those pain killers lasted longer.

“And zan-zna I can’t fucking remember. The word he called you before he shot your dumb ass.”

“Zázhǒng. Half-breed. Not pure, I guess. He’s mocking the fact that I’m only half Chinese.” Jean turns to his side, grimacing, must be feeling it now. The ache in places he’s never ached before, the… byproduct of my orgasm leaking out of him... “They’re not nice words.” I’m going to get hard again if I don’t stop thinking impure thoughts.

“Wait, so you’re not Chinese?” he props his hand on his chin, then replaces it with a pillow as his neck must smart very much by now.

“My father is Irish.” I tell him.

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I don’t believe you. The name _Marco Bodt_ is _the_ furthest thing from Irish _ever_. You look more Italian or Greek. Spaniard, Portuguese, _anything but_ whitey _Irish_. I call bullshit. You don’t know who your father is do you?” Jean scoffs.

“It’s true! And I do to know who my father is!” I protest. Honestly why would I lie about that? And why does everyone hate on the Irish? “My father fell in love with my mother. Stayed and married her. My brother has bright red hair like our father. Mother dyes their hair so they don’t stand out too much. I swear!”

Jean quirks his lips. “What kind of Irish man names his kid Marco?”

“My mother. She likes the story of the famous explorer Marco Polo.” I shrug. Ow. Probably shouldn’t have done that. I guess the pout in my voice sets Jean off.

“Oh my god.” Jean laughs into the pillow, twisting till he lays on his stomach. “What’s an Irish man doing all the way out here?” he asks once his laughing ceases.

“What's a Frenchman doing all the way out here?" I mock, but then answer him anyway. "Mm, bàbà puts it this way: Born knee deep in potatoes and will die knee deep in rice.” Maybe it wasn’t exactly like that, but it’s basically what happened. Jean’s face is scrunched up in confusion.

“Hah?” Jean draws out the ‘ah’ sound.

Sigh. “Bàbà left Ireland because he didn’t want to grow potatoes, he has plenty of brothers so he just left. You know? Māmā worked at a bath house (innnn Shanghai I think it was) and (depending on who’s telling it) my father ‘stumbled’ into the bath house and met my mother. Māmā says he was peeking.” I giggle. He totally was peeking.

“That sounds pretty normal.”

“I guess. He stayed after he, how you say, knocked her up?” that sounds right.

“How noble.” He snickers into the pillow.

“How did your parents meet?” being on my back all this time is starting to feel uncomfortable, but any other position hurts like hell.

Jean shrugs, “Dunno, never asked. Never thought about it.” Jean groans. “I regret the sex so much.” He whines.

I laugh, “Me too.” Sex was a mistake. A huge awful mistake, why did we think we were healed enough for this? “…Was… was it good?”

Jean stops his grumbling to eye me. I’m nervous, what if he never wants to do this again? What if he hated it? What if it hurt? What if-

Jean leans over and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “Best sex I’ve had in years.” He says to my cheek before kissing me again and flopping back to his own space with a tired groan. “Is my ass supposed to hurt?”

“Depends, is it sore, or is there actual pain?” oh no! I _knew_ it. He’s just faking it being good, I hurt him didn’t I?

“Sore. There’s no screaming pain, just sore.” He’s back to talking into the pillow.

I scoot over to him, “Ouch.” Something hits my ankle as I do, what was that- oh. The plug. I could have sworn I heard it fall to the ground. Then what fell? I pick the plug up, the mystery of the strange noise earlier going unsolved. “I still can’t believe you made everyone forget my birthday just so you can put this up your butt and have hot steamy man sex with me.”

“Don’t put it like that!” he screeches. He eyes me wearily, I want to play with him more.

“I wonder if you’re still lose enough for this to just… slip back in?” I wonder out loud. Jean gulps edging away from me. “Ah-ah-ah, you said I can do whatever I want to you tonight. I want to play some more.”

“Maaarcooo noooo, I’m sooore.” He whines, he rolls over and around so he’s sitting cross-legged with the pillow to hide his nethers’ doubling it as a shield against me.

I keep on scooting (even though pain lances up and down my torso as I do) till his back hits the wall and I’m practically in his lap. Jean doesn’t resist much when I grab his arm and gently (but firmly) drape him over my lap so his bum is slightly in the air and his torso arches down into the bed. He still holds onto his pillow, using it to hug.

He whines deeply as I palm his cheeks, fingers slide between them to poke his hole. I love the way he twitches and shifts. White stains are drying on his thighs. “Let’s clean this up.” Pinching high on his thigh, where butt meets legs has him jumping. “Hand me that rag pet.” a gesture thrown in the vague direction of the nightstand.

Jean snorts, I take it he’s just gotten comfortable. Grumbling his usually grumbles about not being a pet and other silly things I’ve become immune to, Jean army crawls to the night stand where a damp towel lays waiting (I don’t remember either of us putting it there). He tosses it at me and crawls back into his previous position.

The way butts jiggle when you smack them has always amused me to no end. I end up startling him as he hadn’t expected it. He still holds some markings from the spanking the night before the mutiny. Just five he earned. Not bad, a record for him. “Stupid.” He says into the pillow. Jean hums as I drag the towel along his thighs, he’s a bit scandalized when I practically wipe him.

The rag gets tossed away when I’m through with it. It lands on the nightstand with a _plop_. Score.

This position isn’t gonna work too well… hmm. “Jean.” He props himself on his elbows to glance back, one eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna sit like this only straddle me.” I hope that makes sense.

It must because Jean gets up, the robe slips off him completely (sigh, he is fantastic in red), Jean goes to sit on me only to lay flat again.

“Like this?” there’s a whine in his voice. His feathers have been ruffled. Little peacock.

“Perfect.” A good slap to his bum later and a few curse thrown my way, Jean is situated with his pelvic region in my lap legs spread wide around my hips. “Hand me my pants will you?” don’t want Jean to mess my clean sheets.

“For fucks sake.” He grumbles reaching for the clothing about to slip off the bed and throws it at me. The pants are folded sloppily and placed under Jean’s narrow hips.

Now, time to play.

“Are you going to do everything I say pet?” I ask him. The plug sits innocently by his hip, my hands palm his lower back giving a bare minimum massage.

“Do I have choice?” he snorts.

“I guess not.” I grab a fist full of flesh and squeeze, Jean grunts. “Spread these lovely pair for me, will you?” there’s a song in my voice. This will be so much fun! I’ll take Jean apart by the seams and won’t bother to sew him back up.

Jean snorts again but reaches back to spread his cheeks, his little hole winks as he moves. How cute.

Mm, yes it is still wide open.

I trace a finger around the red rim and poke a finger inside, there’s no searching just shallow thrusts. Jean’s fingers tighten on his bum, face burrows in the blankets.

“Mar-mm. Shit.” So sensitive.

“How does it feel?” my pointer finger goes deeper, to the second knuckle. His moan turn ragged. Still no searching.

“Goo-good. You can do more.” He gasps, “Please.”

“Gonna need more detail than that pet.” Watching the way skin drags against skin, the way his hole tries to come with me as a thrust in and out. He’s still very loose around one finger.

“Not- not enough.” He whines. I’m genuinely surprised how _needy_ and whorish he’s being. (We haven’t even started yet!) Does he have a thing for post-sex stimulation?

“How so?”

Jean whines and tries to wiggles back into my hands. I pull my finger out.

“Nooo.” He whines.

Curious I reach under to palm his dick. It isn’t hard yet, but it does have a certain firmness to it. Hmm. I’m not hard yet either, but I am feeling the waves of arousal beginning. No big deal I’ll have Jean begging very soon.

“You. Are not allowed to cum. Not till I say so.” I’ve never played this game with him before, but Jean has impeccable control, I firmly believe this will be pleasant for him.

He whines in protest, wiggles his body, and muffles a frustrated scream into the bed.

“Brat.” I smack he hands away from holding himself spread. So obedient. Eyes follow the curve of Jean’s bottom to his thighs. They’re pretty thick for a man. Don’t let that fool you, they’re very hard with muscle. Such wiry muscle and such small amounts of fat.

His thighs get some good smacks, he grunts at each one. “Marcooo.” Jean whimpers. “Don’t be meeean.” If I had known Jean could turn into such a _slut_ in bed I would have done this type of play weeks ago. Hands sooth over the red marks.

You know, I’ve noticed Jean doesn’t fight the spankings anymore. In fact he’s so pliant and patient with them. I think I now know why. Further exploration is required.

Well, enough of that, back to what I originally set out to do.

Aw yes, the plug. It’s wooden of course, a dark type of wood, from what poor tree I don’t know. It’s cone shaped with a convenient bar like handle that stops it from becoming lost inside the recipient. Jean is watching me as I inspect the toy in the lantern light hanging above us.

“Don’t you _dare_ put that in your mouth. That was in my _ass_.” Jean’s face is twisted in disgust, I was going to lube it up some using my saliva since mister greedy decide to use the rest of the coconut oil, but I guess not.

“Why not? You washed inside didn’t you?” I punctuate inside with a finger up his bum.

Jean grunts at the abrupt intrusion, “ _Yes_ but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to lick things that came out of my ass hole. Do you know what ass holes are _for_? They’re for transporting waste products – shit, if your brain can’t comprehend that – outside the body.”

Ohmygod Jean. “I know what butt holes are for.” He’s killing my boner.

“Fine whatever. Lick ass juices, see if I care. Just don’t let that nasty mouth come _anywhere_ near mine.” Jean grouses turning back around.

You know what, fine. I won’t re-lube it, it’s going in dry. Little shit.

First, to reanimate my lost boner, may he rest in peace.

I palm my cock while the other hands delivers a hard swift smack to Jean’s arse. “Shit!” Jean cries, his entire lower body bouncing. The plug gets pushed against the skin between his balls and hole trying to find- Jean jerks- there it is.

Not many people know this, but you can find the prostate outside the body, it takes some practice and a little know how, and most times you can’t, but when you can… well.

Jean ruts back, making sure to drag his erection down into the mattress. Naughty boy.

“Don’t cum.” I remind him. Jean growls.

Alright, time for torture.

“Spread those cheeks again.” At the order Jean eagerly reaches back. Jean even spreads his legs wider. “How’s your neck pet?”

“Fine.” He grunts.

“You sure?” I look him in the eye, Jean’s arousal tinted eyes turn serious.

“Mmhmm.” He hums with a nod.

Okay, he’ll say something if it gets too much.

I’m slow pressing it in. Twisting it like a screw. Jean makes some noises, he tries to push the intrusion out. “Relax.” Jean is getting impatient with the snail pace, pushing back with force. The plug comes out. “Patience.” A light tap to his entrance causes it to wink again.

I proceed to tease Jean, just putting in the tip and taking it away, watching at his cute opening open and close, like it’s begging me. That’s not the mouth (metaphorically speaking of course) I’m waiting for.

“Don’t you want it pet?” Jean makes a frustrated noise, his hands haven’t even let go of his buttocks. I screw it in just till his hole begins to be stretched and wiggle it carelessly. “I’m not hearing you.”

“Please! I want it.” He growls.

“Want what?” I’m being so mean.

“Mgggh.” Jean groans into the pillow he forcefully hugs. His cheeks bounce back into their rightful ways. “Iwantyoutofuckmewiththetoy.” He says in haste.

“I’m do not understand.” I really don’t. I may be somewhat of an expert on English, but I’m not good with metaphors or really fast speech.

“I want you to fuck me in with that damn plug!” Jean whispers harshly, his tone has a sort of desperation to it.

Alrighty then. Never thought I’d ever get to hear Jean use that tone of voice. Bonus. “That’s all you had to say pet.”

I screw the rest in, he resists (his arse not Jean he welcomes it like heavenly light). With a very quiet squelch it goes in all the way. The handle twisted so that it lays parallel to his crack. Jean sighs, elbows squeezing into his sides as his fists clench the blankets.

“Yes.” He moans.

“Squeeze your inner muscles pet. Feel how full you are.” Jean follows instructions to the T. The plug comes out a tiny bit as he does, I force it back in, keeping it there. “Again. Make love to it Jean.”

“Mm. Yeah. Trop bien, plein. Me faut plus profound. Oui.” Jean breathes heavily, rutting back into the hand that keeps the toy within him, squeezing those inner muscles, dragging his erection across the bed sheets. “Please. Not. Ngh. Mn.”

“Not what?”

“Deeper. Qǐng suǒyǒu zhě. Gēngshēn.” Jean begs. My breath hitches. He called me owner. _Please owner. Deeper._ He said. Owner. Suǒyǒu zhě. The words bounce in my skull. I am so fucking hard right now. I want more.

Jean, likes it deep, but this doesn’t go any deeper, it’s only about three, four inches long and I’m about six, six and a half. Jean is longer, maybe seven, but I’m thicker than him. I swallow thickly imagining Jean inside me, me in his place. Yeah. Yeah.

“Zhǔrrén qǐtǎo qǐng!” Jean cries and extra rough rut has my hand buckling. _Begging my owner please._ This is definitely a dream. Jean would never- his Chinese sucks. How-

I lean over him, nibbling all the way up his spine, he shivers. He’s not crying, not in the literal sense, but there’s this type if sobbing sounds coming from him that have nothing to do with real tears. “Nǐ xiǎng yào wǒ de zhīfáng gōngjī, chǒngwù ma? Nǐ xiǎng jì?” _you want my fat cock, pet? You want to cum?_ Jean doesn’t understand. He can’t possibly.

“Xiǎng yào dehuà, n-nǐ de chǒngwù zh-zhǔrén xiǎng yào gōngjī!” Jean gasps _. Want it, your pet wants owner's cock._ The little shit has been paying attention to my lessons? There’s a ton of improvement needed, most the sounds are difficult for him to pronounce, most not done correctly. The grammar I strange and very child-like. Still I'm impressed.

I lean back, chest burns a ‘no’ but dick throbs a ‘yes’.

“I haven’t even found your prostate yet.” I tell him casually. (I don’t feel casual at all, I’m leaking like a waterfall. I’m sure Jean has a sizable puddle himself). “Honestly Jean. You’ve become such a _whore.”_

Jean gasps, “Fuck you.” Jean rests his cheek on the mattress. “Sh-shit.” I’m starting to angle the plug, trying to find his bundle of nerves. I’m pretty sure it’s a gland though. Is there a difference? Probably should know these things. “Pas assez profond.”

Jean is mid hum when he gasps like he’s coming up for air. “There! There, there, there. Oh fffuck.”

I smile, “Sing for me pet.” I mutter. I don’t think he hears me, doesn’t matter because he’s doing it anyway.

Jean is reduced to unintelligible mumblings and gasps. Moans and grunts. Whines and keens. I stream out a constant reminder of ‘Don’t cum’ s and ‘Not yet’ s.

I like the way he twists, the way he tries desperately to take in more. There’s no more to take in. Not unless he wants the handle, but that could seriously hurt him and we can’t have that.

“Please Marco please. Let me cum. It hurts. Please.” His words garble into French to English and back again. Head presses into the blankets hiding screaming moans.

I can’t take it anymore, the way Jean is keening and fisting the sheets, _begging._

I rip the plug out harsher than I intended, he yelps. His stretched wide hole pulses- I’m quick to replace it, filling him just as he wants. I’ve trapped him between my body and the bed and he loves it. I don’t give him a chance to adjust as I start a harsh and punishing pace, keeping an ear out for Jean to say something against it.

He doesn’t.

“Marco. Fu-ck!” his voice cracks. The slapping of our skin it louder than before. The nape of his neck becomes a ready target for my teeth and lips. I've got a forearm pinning his upper back to the bed. He can't move. “I need to cum. Marco. AH fuck-k.” there are kiss bruises all over his shoulders. My chest burns from possible ripped stitches.

“Not yet.” Jean must be feeling so raw right now, the way his dick is being forced between the bed and us. I shudder at the thought. “Almost.” Jean keens. I want to kiss him so bad, but the positions we’re in could hurt his neck too much.

There’s a deep burn in my gut. I need to cum.

He’s loud, I’m just as loud.

“Dun-don’t cum insi-ide.” Jean pleads. He’s slipped back to French nonsense, any coherent thought has left him as he just moans and grunts with every harsh thrust.

“Ok-ay.” Not a hard request. Shit I’m cumming now.

I pull out just in time, the head barely escapes Jean’s tight heat before a white substance coats Jean’s lower back.

Oh god. Everything hurts. Fuck Shang. Fuck Erwin and that she-male.

Shoot, forgot about Jean, I grab a fist full of hair and gently yank. “Cum pet. Cum now.” Ordering him isn’t enough, not yet. So I reach under his trembling hips and pull on his erection. “Let me see that pretty face.” I keep my voice soft, “So good Jean, waiting for permission. Good boy. You hear me? You can cum now.” Jean cums just as hard, as last time. A muffled cry the only difference.

While Jean comes down from his high I clean us up with the soiled rag and throw it away somewhere with my equally soiled pants.

“Oh fuck. No more. Shit.” Jean gasps, “I think I’m bleeding.” Panic sets in my heart and I quickly check his arse, till I realize he’s talking about his neck.

“Me too.” Everything hurts. I regret everything.

Jean and me take too long to get back into our respective sides.

“Your hair is silly.” I don’t know why I said that, it just… popped out.

“Your face is stupid.” He retorts. He yawns, stretching and cringing.

“Why is it light on top and dark below?” I choose to ignore that insult.

“Why do you have freckles?”

“…I just do.”

“There you go.”

“You’re answer is ‘it just is’?” nature doesn’t do that… does it?

“Ohmygod.” He groans in the pillow. “It just _appears_ darker because the hairs that are super short just appear darker. I have the same color hair as my mother you know.” He adds as an afterthought.

“Oh.” Yeah, I guess that makes sense. “Jean.”

“What nooow?” he kicks his legs, the bed shakes.

“There are so many things I want to do to you.” I begin, “But the way we are now, it can’t be done. So. I propose we postpone the rest till the both of us are healed.”

“So you want to do this another day?”

“Yes.” I nod and carefully sink down till I’m lying flat once more.

“M’kay.” He mumbles. Voices, not our own, loud-ish, and a lot of shh-ing. Who is that? Come to think of it, I’ve been hearing it all night. Jean’s eyes widen, “Marco.” He whispers hurriedly, “Ohmygod.” He looks absolutely horrified.

“What?”

“ _The speaking tube_.” He points, his face completely red. Speaking tube? What on Ear- Oh my god.

“If you’re done being gross eavesdroppers I suggest you go back to work!” my voice is raw and a bit shaky in embarrassment. There’s a chorus of ‘oh shit’s and scrambling feet. Jean laughs in a horrified manner, my face is just as red as his.

Minutes go by before I feel my face go back to normal, by that time Jean has already fallen asleep.

How does he do that? Fall asleep so fast I mean?

It leaves me to painfully reach for our blankets.

Oh god ow.

I think I’m bleeding.

Frick.

I’m so tired, I don’t care, I’ll deal with it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Gonna ride you so hard I will make you cum your soul. Captain. [Jean]  
> S-so good. Fuck me harder. Right there! Yes! [Jean]  
> Harder! Please, need- fuck! [Jean]  
> Come on captain. Aren't you gonna cum in my little arse? [Jean]  
> So good, and full. Need it deeper. [Jean]  
> Not deep enough. [Jean]
> 
> I want a needy Jean for my birthday too. slutty Jean is my weakness. [sighs because he's not real and I'm a virgin aromantic asexual with a healthy sex drive so I wouldn't know what to do with him] it's a curse.
> 
> anyway hopefully I did porn right.
> 
> Irish Marco? eh? eh? I like a Hispanic/Mexican/Spaniard/Italian/Brazilian/Portuguese [basically any Latino] Marco better tbh, wanted to try something new. *shrugs*


	21. Nice Plumage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after is always awkward.
> 
> Some foreshadowing.
> 
> And more plot I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tumblr url is menstralcycling

The bed is warm, even with Marco missing from it. I’m not ready to brave the pain of moving. So I lay there patiently wait for death, or Marco, whichever comes first.

Memories of last night filter in through a fogged lens of consciousness. It makes me feel giddy, I can’t _believe_ I did it. What was I so afraid of? I mean yeah, my ass is a bit sore, but I bet with given time, it won’t ache anymore. Maybe. God Marco was so hot last night. Never thought begging could-

Embarrassment sinks in at the memories of how much I begged. Fuck. Ohgod. Why.

Never in a million years would I think that anal sex would feel so fucking fulfilling. The times when Marco used his fingers was awkward, enjoyable sure, but awkward at best. When I slid in that plug after preparing myself- I couldn’t believe how much it made me feel complete. Then, replaced with Marco’s dick, well- I’m a fucking slut.

My mother would be so disappointed.

Okay, I need to get up and figure out how to walk without it being too obvious Marco plowed me into the mattress… twice… while the sickos listened in.

Oh god.

Putting any weight on my battered neck is agony, it hurts so fucking much. I can _feel_ dried, crusty blood flake off under the bandages, feel warmth oozing from underneath the feeble scabs. Disgusting. My head is too heavy, ohgod take me now. Wait, I don’t want to die naked and covered in sex.

It’s nice to find out my lower back doesn’t hurt as bad as I originally feared. More like a dull ache like I’ve been sitting for hours and did some heavy ballet without stretching beforehand.

Shit Marco knows about that. Hope he doesn’t ask me to dance. Not fucking happening.

I should start a stretching regiment. I’m losing that flexibility.

“Oh good you’re up!” Marco waltzes in cheerfully. Fuck that noise, why are you so happy? The slightly glassy appearance of his eyes suggests he’s been drugged. Give me some please. “Come on, I have a bath ready! And Sasha is making us some brunch- we missed breakfast.” Marco scuttles over with a fluffy towel like bathrobe and wraps it around me.

Fuck. Pain. “I’m never having sex again.” I whine into his shoulder.

Marco hums in agreement, closes his robe (which had fallen open) and leads the way to the bathing rooms.

* * *

 

“Wait a fucking minute!” I flail up from the bath (regret it so bad, fuck I’m bleeding again). Marco jumps moaning in pain, the drugs are starting to wear off. “If you’re father is Irish how come you had to have someone else teach you English?”

Marco rolls his eyes. “I knew enough to get by, you don’t really have a chance to speak English in China. Maybe if you work at the docks, not on a farm miles from shore.” Marco splashes me.

He leans back over the edge. We’ve managed to wedge ourselves in the same tub facing each other. Our feet rest at each other’s hips, both legs somehow spread. We’re clean, but the water is sooo warm and I don’t think either of us have the guts to move. Also the water is turning pink from us leaking life fluid. But again, we don’t want to face the excruciating pain of getting up, rinsing, and clothing ourselves. We are such chicken shits.

Lost in thought I fail to notice Marco slumping ever so slightly and falling asleep. It happens every time he’s drugged. He’s high and hyper for the amount of time the drug is active; then, once it wears off he becomes slow and drowsy, eventually passing out where ever. It’s fucking hilarious.

He won’t wake up if I wash his wounds. Ooor play footsies with his dick till he gets hard. Nah, that’s mean… he did totally wreck my ass though…

My foot has already moved into position. Looks like my body wants revenge. It’s not hard to get him hard. Just a few massaging and a big toes fumbling over the head. (It’s surprisingly difficult to do this). Toes trail down to delicately (and very clumsily) fiddle with his balls. Haha, this is so stupid.

I get bored and stop.

Marco still sleeps, but moans softly and weakly ruts his hips making the water ripple gently.

Fucking idiot.

I rinse my neck (oh god it stings, fuck) and get out.

That’s for wrecking my ass you pirate whore.

So I leave Marco to wake up alone and hard while I go back to our room to change and hopefully find Chang because he just sighs in disappointment unlike a certain German prick who will most certainly rant and rave about how irresponsible and troublesome I am.

I must have some semi-shitty luck because it’s not Chang nor Eren I run into but Levi. Fuck. He just gives you this stare, a very intimidating stare. Like the one he’s giving me now.

His small nose curls in disgust, I can’t imagine _why_ as I literally just got out of the bath and everything is clean besides- oh. He’s staring at the soiled cloth I’m using to cover my wounds so as not to get blood everywhere and not to scare the more delicate ladies on board.

“It’s better than bleeding everywhere.” I finally squeak out. Oh, wow, has my voice sounded like this all day? It sounds… fucked out… fuck.

Levi sighs. “Come on brat, everyone’s asleep for the most part. Half the crew enjoyed the rather… erotic show you two put on. Never thought you were a beggar Kirschtien.” OHMYGOD!

I’m sure my entire everything is scarlet.

“I’m going to cry.” I’m helpless and weak in voice. Ohmygod. Please just kill me. See, I really don’t give a rat’s ass that everyone knows I take it up the ass now, but it’s _completely_ different when they _hear_ it straight from the horse’s mouth. … Bad analogy. I hate myself.

“Don’t worry about it.” Levi grunts.

Easy for you to say you short fuck. No one eavesdropped on you having sex. (Does Levi even sleep?)

We end up doubling back to reach his rooms so he can bandage me up (and might as well do Marco while we’re here).

“How could you be so mean to me?” Marco whines. Levi snorts while wrapping cloth around Marco’s torso and cinching it.

“You wrecked my ass.” I whisper. I think Levi’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. Fuck that guy.

“Why are you so mean all the time though?” Jesus Christ Marco man up. Those brown eyes seem to get larger as he puppy whimpers.

“Oh, I don’t know, you attack the ship I’m on, kidnap me, force me to become your stupid pet, emotionally abuse me, physically abuse me, somehow make me like you, and know you’ve wrecked my ass. Do you know how sore I am right now?” I think that’s all, is it?

Marco pouts, wraps his robe around him tightly, downs the steaming tea Levi made for the pain, and storms past me.

“Psh.” The dumbass probably burned his throat. I thank Levi and take my own cup following Marco out.

By the time I’ve caught up with him (I took my time to be honest) he’s knelt down at the drawer. What’s he doing anyway? I’ve already told him I haven’t gotten it opened yet.

“Jean, that clunk from last night was the drawer opening.” Marco says over his shoulder.

Hah? How is that possible, it was locked. And what clunk?

“What’s in it?” I say.

“Letters. Lots of them. Mostly in French though, I think…” Marco hands me a handful of letters.

The papers are yellowed with age, the ink slowly fading, the creases of the fold worn like someone read over them multiple times.

“It is French. _Dear papa, the baby is here!_ The next sentence is too faded to read.” I skim over the letter more. “It’s just this girl named… the signature is too faded, talking about her current events I guess.”

Marco is scanning another letter, this one in English. _“Dear…_ I can’t read that, _mother…_ this English is very strange. These letters must be decades old… the spelling is nothing like today’s English.”

Spooky. Really though, how are these letters decades old? Has no one actually opened this damn thing? It’s fucking wood, it would be so easy just to hack into it or pick the lock.

“How long ago did you get this desk?” I ask.

“I don’t know… a year? Maybe two?” he scratches his chin and gathers an armful of paper and crawling into bed.

“Hmm…” I dig around some more, it’s all letters. Ancient old letters back and forth form papa, to mother and I think that says child? Could be aunt maybe. Man this is so lame. Fucking letters. At least let there be some gold or something. Maybe there’s a treasure map hidden somewhere in this?

Nothing. Aside from yellowed paper and an empty bottle of ink (no money hidden in it I looked) it’s empty.

Sigh. Maybe the letters will prove entertainment enough. However boring most their contents seem.

I grab a pile for myself and add it to the pile Marco has going and crawl in myself to start reading.

“Jean… how would you like being tied up… during sex?” Marco asks after maybe an hour of reading boring fucking day to day lives from like twenty years ago. Seriously, how has no one opened that drawer in twenty years? Anyway, he’s fidgeting with one of the worn letters, one that’s been written in English.

“I’ve… never thought about it.” Truly, I haven’t (I have, but it was always just a fleeting fantasy). Doesn’t seem too bad, I liked it when Marco had me pinned to the bed. But, what if I don’t like something?

“I, I just want to get things- um- I just want to know what you’re willing to try before starting other stuff. Not very many people will be willing to try different things. You know?” I nod sifting through some papers. Marco does have a point.

“We can uh, make a list?” that sounded stupid. “I once fucked a girl who liked it when I held her down, scared me though. Thought I was hurting her, she was... a screamer.” I shudder at the memory, the sex was great, but it was bad for my anxiety, the way she screamed- it freaked me out, had a hard time maintaining an erection around her.

Marco chuckles stuffing a discarded sock into the speaking tube. Good idea.

Since Marco has the wall it’s up to me to get up and lock the door and find some things to write on.

“Uhm, we can start with what you liked and didn’t like last night.” He offers.

I fucking like everything about it. Except the part where our wounds kind fucked us up. “Uhh, shit. Um. I liked, fuck.” This is so hard to say. “I really like you teasing me.” I did, it frustrated me and made me want to castrate him but the payoff was _amazing_. I came so fucking hard.

“What about it did you like?” ah fuck; bending hurts, walking hurts. Shit, Marco just asked something.

“I don’t know, just did.” I waddle back to the bed, fucking walking bow-legged, thought that shit was a stupid drunk-talk myth. That bath helped though, still can’t look anyone in the eye though. “What about you, maybe I- we can-” sigh, this is so stupid, but if we’re going to do some ‘unorthodox’ sex we need to talk this shit out.

“I loved it when you begged!” Marco shouts. His face reddens at his enthusiasm. I _hated_ begging, but, the way it was forced out of me was good for the soul, or some bullshit. I tell him this, he nods like he understands. “Um, also you, you called me owner.”

Shit, I did. It’s my turn to redden.

“When we do these, these scenes, can you call me owner?” Marco asks shyly. “I mean not every time we have sex, but just when we try these, odd stuff…” he trails off.

“…I guess… I could try…” I don’t even know why I called him that, it just slipped and he seemed to like it a bit too much so I kept saying it hoping he’d give me what I wanted. (And he fucking did).

“Gagging?” Marco suggests.

“What kind of gagging?” if it’s like throwing up then I’m jumping ship asap.

“Like, shutting up gagging. Also blind folds. Those are fun, you can’t see what’s going to happen next and you can’t voice your worries and all you other senses are heightened, and-”

A full body shiver consumes him, “You’re gunna get hard and I’m not touching that thing for a looong time.” I shrug and pen gagging and blind folds to the sex list. “But yeah okay.” It then occurs to me then that if I can’t voice my worries, then how am I going to? “Marco, what if I’m gagged and you’re doing something I don’t like? I won’t be able to tell you, and what if you don’t take me seriously?”

“O-oh, um…” he thinks a bit “We won’t be gagged unless we’re doing something we know we like. Like if I’m just fucking you, then you won’t have any worries, but if we’re doing something we’ve never done, then gagging and maybe the blind fold is a no.” I pen that in. Marco sure knows a lot about this.

“How did you know all about this shit?” Marco glances away, pretending to read another one of those letters. I mean, all I’ve learned are from my own experience and shitty romance poetry. “Marco?”

“Ummm, when I sailed with Ymir she liked to play with me… Krista found it amusing and Ymir will do anything for her…”

“But I thought Ymir doesn’t like men?”

“She doesn’t, but- um- she enjoys giving pleasure, tying her toys up and stuff; she just doesn’t like penises. Unless they’re fake.” Marco says with a shrug, I don’t think he understands it much either.

“So… she’s not sexually attracted to males, but will pleasure them because it’s fun?” yeah I can see that. I imagine it might make things easier, your own arousal not clouding your judgment and what-not.

“Yep.”

“What about when we are trying new things, I do kinda like the spankings, but not too much, when I say stop or something I might not mean it, how are we gonna differentiate between all that?” I remind myself there’s a difference between the spanking Marco did last night and the ‘punishments’ he administers weekly.

“Ymir called them safe words.” Marco explains. “Words you wouldn’t normally say during sex so the partner knows when to back off or stop or to just check in.”

“Okay. I’ll teach you the words in French and you teach me them in Chinese… I noticed we revert to our native languages when we kinda… lose it.”

“Sure.” There’s silence as I make a little table chart thing for the words we don’t have yet. “How do you like being called names?”

“Hah?” what the fuck?

“I called you a whore (kinda) last night and you didn’t seem too bothered by it.” Marco elaborates.

Oh, he did? Yeah, I guess he did. He called me a slut too. Hmm. Well… to be fair I was being a slut, never knew I had it in me. “I guess I wouldn’t mind, as long as you’re not actually meaning it. And not calling me that in front of people.”

“Neat. Oh, I don’t like those words, even if they’re meant to be playful. Krista made me cry once, she felt so bad about it she cried and then Ymir got angry at me ‘cause I made Krista cry- god it was a mess.” He says.

“Oookay.” _‘Don’t call Marco mean names in bed.’ ‘Jean doesn’t mind just don’t be an asshole.’_

“We still need words. We should use animals.” He suggests.

“You keep calling me peacock, I guess that’s a good word. Um, I can’t stand being called a horse, cats are cool, uhmmm-”

“Fox and hawk.” Marco cuts in. “Stallion is Zhì, it will mean ‘stop, no more, no, etcetera’.” Marco takes the writing from me. He's getting excited. “Kǒngquè, for peacock, you don’t really like being called that either soo… it can mean ‘unsure, continue slowly’ or ‘caution’.” Marco writes these down in the little chart I made. “Húlí is fox, it can be um-”

“How ‘bout ‘yes, further, go on, etcetera’?” I offer. Foxes are cool.

“Perfect!” Marco kisses my cheek.

“End scene can be hawk and pause can be cat, you know bathroom breaks and there’s going to be interruptions.” Marco nods at my suggestion, writing māo for cat and yīng for hawk. He hands me back the pad (it’s my drawing pad, being as no one dares to look in it and it’s always in this room, I figured it was good for this sort of thing).

“Faucon, is hawk (it’s also falcon). Chat for cat (the ‘ch’ is pronounce kinda like ‘sh’ like Charlotte). Fox is renard. Stallion is, shit uhhh…” what the fuck was- Oh! Fuckin’ duh, “Stallion is étalon, (kinda a long ‘e’ I guess?) aaand peacock is paon (like pawn almost).” Marco has his chin on my shoulder watching as I write.

“Renard sounds like someone’s name.” Marco blows out some air through his nose in silent laughter. “Ymir had me use colors if I remember correctly.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier? Colors would be so much easier- you know what fuck it.” Whatever. I don’t care, animals are better anyway. I am so past caring anymore. Like, just fucking forget it. “Hey, um Marco?”

“Yes?”

“Can I fuck you? Not now, but in the near future?” Marco smiles really big.

“Absolutely! I even thought about you taking me like I was fucking you into the bed last night.” Marco is too damn eager for this shit. Fucking hell, where does he get all this energy? He’s been hanging around me too long to have that mouth cuss.

“What did Ymir do to you?” I’m really curious.

“Oh, well things like last night, um denied orgasms, teasing… she would tie me up in elaborate ways- Shibari, I think it’s called… she-she’d put this metal cage thing around my cock so I couldn’t get hard no matter how aroused I was and kept it on me for weeks. She’d hit me and Krista would use me as he personal dildo and-and forced orgasms, made me cum so many times in a day that by the last orgasm there was no semen.” Marco lists, face pink, hands wringing in his lap. He looks, almost ashamed, like he’s remembering some long ago horror.

“Marco…” that sounds really fucking awful, “Marco how old were you when Ymir took you as her... toy?”

“Sixteen.”

“Marco!” that’s horrifying!

“It was all consensual! And if there was something I didn’t like or it hurt too much she stopped so fast and never did it again!” Marco waves his arms in defense to the pirate empress. “And Krista was such a dear and took care of me always.” He doesn’t sound convincing. He sounds like a wife excusing why her husband gave her a black eye.

I eye him wearily, that cage thing freaked me out. No thanks. Wait, I thought he was a virgin before his first pet. I voiced my thoughts out loud apparently because Marco chuckles and rubs his nose in embarrassment.

“Might have lied a little bit… I turned seventeen and Ymir found a new toy.” He shrugs, that sounds fishy.

“She tossed you out ‘cause you got old?” That sounds pedophilic. “How old is she?”

“She was eighteen when she took me away… and it wasn’t because that, it was because Krista got bored with me. Ymir said I had been the longest lasting toy ever and the best,” he sounds proud of that fact. “and… technically I was a virgin, I mean I wasn’t really ever allowed to touch Mistress Ymir and Krista, so I wasn’t all that knowledgeable about pleasuring a woman on my own… yeah…” Marco admits. I still don’t like it.

Mistress? I’d think Empress would be better for her ego.

Then I get a scary thought. What if he gets bored of me? He said Mina was one of the best pets he’s had, yet he got bored with her… what will happen to me? Will I be like Marco and just get tossed aside with a ‘you were great, see ya ‘round buddy’?

I choose not to dwell on the subject.

“What things do you _not_ want to do?” Marco is gathering up the letters, putting French in one pile and English in another.

“Don’t spit on me. That’s incredibly offensive and fucking disgusting. If your dick goes in my ass, or another object – or whatever – don’t you _dare_ put it in my mouth. Put it in your mouth but don’t even think about kissing me with it.” God I can’t believe Marco was going to suck on that plug, it was in my _ass._

“ _Fine_ , it’s really not that bad, I mean it is if you haven’t bathed in a while, but you’re clean and you said you washed up there. Ymir and Krista would make me do it all the time, it really isn’t that bad.” Marco says with an eye roll.

“No. Ass juices. Period.” ‘ _Marco likes ass juices, I swear to god I will rip your balls off if you give me any.’_ Gets written in the pad. “No ball or penile torture either, I’ve read people like to get their balls crushed. Yeah no. Pain is fine, just not on genitalia.” I add.

“Same.” Marco shudders. “Cock rings are fun though.”

“What?” what do fighting roosters have anything to do with sex?

“They prevent you from cumming. Uhhhh- hold on.” Marco rips a long strip of paper from my notebook.

“Hey!”

“Hold on. Okay, pretend my finger is an erect cock,” weird, but okay, Marco points his index finger up, “My thumb and middle can be the balls- use your imagination.” He pinches said fingers together like a claw, “okay, so pretend this paper is a string or rope or something. See the rope can go around the penis and (or) balls,” Marco wraps the paper strip around his fingers loosely in demonstration, “to cut off the whole orgasm process. When it’s time- you kinda do, you know- just nothing happens. It’s terribly frustrating.”

…I see… “Yeah I’ll try it.” Cock ring is added to the growing list. "It's not painful is it"

"It can be. It hurt sometimes for me, but that was when it was on for a long time." Marco answers with a yawn.

“Krista had me dress in woman’s clothes.” Marco says after a bought of silence. I’ve doodled all over the free spaces.

“Did you like it?” I knew a guy up the street from where I grew up who preferred woman’s clothing. Dude was fucking weird. Kept saying he was really a woman. Whatever floats your boat man.

It takes a long time for Marco to respond. “I’m not sure. I did like the corsets and the pretty socks that went up to the thigh- they made me feel, I don’t know… pretty? Kinda powerful? But the super frilly things and the whole walking around in it all day is really uncomfortable, especially when I’m forced in public. It was degrading, I hated it.”

_‘Cross-dressing?’_

“Just, no pink. I don’t really like that color. And no yellow for you.” I prefer not to dress like a rentboy, but there’s no harm in trying it in private (well Marco will be there). I don’t know what’s with pink to make me hate it so much, it’s very manly, I just don’t like it.

I can’t think of anything more.

Wait, “Don’t defecate or piss on me. Don’t make drink any of that shit either.”

Marco looks horrified. “What!?”

“Read a book that had that, the woman was forced to drink her husband’s piss and she liked it.” I burned that book. What the fuck. I mean if you’re into it- that’s your thing, but for me? Just. No. I understand why it was banned by the church though.

“Not even the pirate empresses made me do that, and they’re into some weird stuff.” Marco recoils. “On that note, no bleeding. There’s a difference between skin breaking a little as you’re whipped and actually aiming to be bled. I won’t do it either.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t like the sight of blood. Freaks me out.” Glad we’re on the same page with that. I’m sorta okay with small amounts of blood, it happens when you’re being spanked, but not like flaying, that shit is a no no.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Marco calls.

“Lunch, come and socialize!” Connie yells.

“Okay!” Marco calls back.

“Do we have to? Levi said half the crew listened in.” I’m weary as fuck. Hopefully no one will say anything.

“It’ll be fine. If anyone causes any problem they can get tied to the mast the rest of the day, and if they’re really mean to the figurehead.

You know, I’ve been on this ship like two, three, four? months and have never even thought to look at the figure head. I wonder what it is.

“What is the figure head anyway?” I’m tossing the letters back onto the drawer while Marco hobbles off the bed.

“It’s a merman.” He says. “It’s a work of art, the face was blown off a few years ago, I had an artisan try and fix it but there was too much damage, so it’s faceless. Still beautiful though.”

Hm. I will go and look at it eventually. “Why a merman?” we’re on our way to the mess hall.

“Everyone uses mermaids, and goddesses, and animals, no one ever uses a man. Besides, I may not care for gender, but I prefer men.” I get a pinch to the ass at ‘men’. Fucking asshole. Marco fucking giggles and trots ahead.

You are supposed to be in pain.

I take a detour up top to get some fresh air. And maybe look at the figure head because this is gonna bother me till I actually do it. Maybe I’ll draw him. I need practice with humans- well he’s not human but it’s a start.

I don’t get any sneers from the crew, just some knowing chuckles and I swear to god I think Reiner winks at me. I’m going to kill them all. Ohmygod.

I approach the bow, I can see the figure’s fingers from here, from the looks of it, it looks as if it’s reaching up to hold the bow piece thing- like when you stretch your arms and link them behind you. Getting closer I see the detail in the hands. Fingernails, creases on the knuckles, and even small veins. Wow. Whoever did this did an amazing job.

I lean over the rail to see him for myself. He’s fucking gorgeous. The amount of effort the creator put into this is outstanding.

The waist – where man meets fish – is seamless, there are no scales (it has a small protrusion like thing similar to a dolphin where – if he were human – the genitals would go). There are hip fins that fan out delicately (one is broken clean off); the long tail wraps around the bow beam (or gives the illusion too) ending in the tail fin that fans out like the hip fins (very fish like despite the mammal like tail). The abs are realistic and it even has a belly button and nipples. The armpits hold grooves to give the illusion of hair (the chest does too), but the face. It’s missing. It’s a blank slate, as if the sculptor put down the base (eye sockets, nose, and general mouth) before stopping. The hair is slightly wavy, not quite curly but not straight either. Shit the detail in the ears.

I step away blown completely off guard about how much beauty a piece of fucking wood holds.

Still, the fact that he has no face and you can still see the scars where it had been blown off is eerie.

Goddamn.

I glance up spying a bright blue bird.

Wait, what the fuck?

The bird is bright fucking blue with long plumage on the top of its head. What the hell kind of bird is that?

It looks at me, it has red eyes. Okay, that’s fucking creepy.

The longer I stare at is the closer it waddles toward me.

No stop, what are you doing bird?

It’s about three feet away from me, and damn this bird is about as big as a fucking chicken. It’s huge. (Okay not that big but still). It lifts its leg, puts it down, ducks its head, and _whoots_ at me. Fucking _whoots_. It sounds like dropping a stone down an empty well. Oh, the bird has a message attached to its leg.

“Oh. Well, um, come ‘ere- I guess?” I hold out my arms to it. Did that fucker just rolls its eyes at me?

Sigh. What the fuck ever. I pick the bird up like a chicken, tuck the stupid thing under my arm and march off to the mess hall.

I get some weird as looks, I don’t blame them. I’m carrying a blue bird that _whoots_ but doesn’t struggle out of my grip. I kinda like this bird, you despite being kinda creepy.

“Marco, I think this is for you.” I set the thing on the table in front of him. It _whoots_ again and lifts its leg.

“Oh?” he looks excited. “This little guy is a Blue Crowned Pigeon!” Marco unties the little message and quickly scans it. “It’s a mission from Erwin.” he says, he sounds annoyed.

The bird promptly shits on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend looking up that bird and hearing the calls. it's fucking hilarious and I want 20.
> 
> Erwin is a go big or go home kinda guy, so of course his messenger pigeon would be flashy.
> 
> Also, I have like this whole thing where Ymir and Krista comes and kinda kidnaps the boys (leaving Levi in charge) to go to a convention like thing (I need to do some research on that kinda thing) and those chapters are basically nothing but sex, so.... yeah....
> 
> this thing is gonna be like 50 chapters before I even get to the actually sex convention and the actual plot. fml


	22. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin's letter
> 
> a half ass plan
> 
> who is /It/?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ABOUT TIME AM I RIGHT?? lol... sigh, so this chapter had to be completely re-written because turns out my hard drive is dead. like no hope of retrieving anything from it dead. so this chapter is subpar because I've done it all from memory and it is horrible (to me).
> 
> while ya'll waited and I was frustrated I revised all the previous chapters so go back and re-read! I just added some stuff and fixed plot holes and their ages because I realized as I wrote Bertholdt's side I fucked up on that. (math is not my strong suit)

_My Dearest Captain,_

_It seems I am in need of your advice._

_Are you aware of the pirate ship the_ Bound _? The prison ship (regrettably coming from my own home country) that was sailing to Australia for permanent exile (a terrible way to “fix” the crime issues there in my opinion) when there had been a terrible mutiny and now those questionable characters have formed a pirate crew that is not so forgiving and gentle as you are my dear friend._

_I’m sure you’re well acquainted with this lot._

_You see, they have been terrorizing the South Seas for some time now and since they have certain contracts with many powerful trading companies and some government officials to be “privateers” I’m afraid my hands are tied to stop them. I cannot legally engage them without myself committing piracy._

_Perhaps you can offer some kind advice for I am stumped on what to do. The last I heard of them, they ransacked a poor fishing village somewhere near the Solomon Isles._

_Good luck. Oh, and be a good man and burn this letter._

_P.S. please send your advice back with Mary (the bird) give her rest and feed please. Don’t worry about her finding her way, she knows where home is at._

_With much appreciation, Commander Erwin Smith._

He treats me as if I’m a child. I clench the paper Jean’s eyes flicker to the movement. Snatching Jean’s cigarette away I use it to burn the letter. The bird poops on my table again, _whoots_ and struts about. The sudden flames has her scuttling away.

Clearly the dear Commander wants me to take down those rowdy ruffians. Yes, I know of the _Bound_. They’re the reason my ship has no face. I’ve been successful in just ignoring them and avoiding those people for years. Now that English bastard expects me to fight them. When I said I was willing to do the “illegal” things I meant smuggling or kidnapping, not bloody war!

Calm down Marco.

Captain Kit… he’s a very… unlikable man. A shoot several times first before shooting it again kind of guy. Pixis said something about him being sentenced to life in the colonies due to some war crime scandal or something. Explains a lot. War crime, what a… a… what’s the word, oxymoron? Sounds right… anyway, that rotten apple somehow managed to get even Ymir weary of him. I’d like to know his secrets, maybe them I won’t be so afraid of her.

Jean breaks the memories of my kidnapping that began to resurface by taking back is cigarette and dumping the last of his water onto the small fire. The paper is nothing but black ash, and the table might be stained.

My chest is beginning to hurt again, I can see a twinge of discomfort flint across his face as well.

“Connie!” I shout, I know he’s in here. I saw that shiny head in here somewhere.

“Aye sir.” Comes the immediate response, it’s casual, easy, also he’s got a biscuit half shoved in his face.

“Find her something to feed and send her away.” A vague gesture is thrown at the bird.

“Aye.” Connie shoves the remaining biscuit in his mouth to coax the bird to him. Brightly colored feathers flutter to the table as she fluffs herself up.

“Wait,” I stop him as he’s about to leave, “just feed her and make her comfortable don’t send Mary off yet.” He nods. Can’t believe I almost forgot about sending a reply. _“Find someone to clean up this mess.”_ To my right a ships boy – oh girl – bows and scuttles away. _“Please get Armin. The small yellow haired man, giant blue eyes.”_ I ask the bearded man to my left. He’s finished his lunch and is on his way out anyway.

What a polite crew.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Jean flicks ash onto the floor.

“Not now.”

Jean snorts rolling those pretty amber eyes and stubbing out his cigarette in the pile of ash.

The mess hall is loud; dozens of bodies new to my ship laugh and bellow stories in so many languages while they eat. If I didn’t have such a headache I’d be glad everyone is so happy and joyous. The clattering of tin and the slams of tankards the only thing louder than their voices. Still I wonder, is this a good crew? They were such short notice. Eventually, as they finish their meal they file out – some in pairs or groups or even alone. Yes. It’s a good crew. A joyous seasoned crew. I can feel it.

The little girl I sent out comes back. Took her long enough. She scrunches her face and makes a show of yucky sounds as she wipes away the ash and poo. Even as she hurries away she makes sure to tell us of how unpleasant that job was by holding the soiled rag in her pinched fingers at arm’s length. How cute.

Why do I have so many children on my ship?

By the time Armin has found me, both me and Jean have finished our food and the room is pretty much empty save the few stragglers and those taking mid-day naps.

“So, what is it?” Armin says. He sits next to me, his blue eyes shimmering in the dim light. Spooky.

“Erwin has given us a… task. I need to know where we are.”

“Oh, um… I’ll have to check to be sure; but we should be close to the western tip of Australia by now.” He drums his small fingers on the table, “Should I get- Marco?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry what was that?” I hadn’t been paying attention. Something about almost being to Australia? My head throbs. Jean guffaws at me. Honestly, why is he being to mean today? Anyway, I hadn’t thought we’ve gotten so far already; we’ll have to double back to get to the _Bound_ ’s favorite haunts. I really don’t want to do this. Captain Kit is a very unpleasant person to deal with and has a very happy trigger finger.

“I was going to ask if you’re going to set a meeting. I could get the people you need, you really shouldn’t be out of bed. Neither of you should.” Armin says concern written all over his face. Goodness he is a cute one, he’s like a male Krista.

“Yes, that would be kind of you. Um I’ll need Levi… let’s see… you, maybe Mikasa… Eren might as well come… Reiner should know firsthand too… yes that’s all.” I tell him.

“Okay, we’ll do dinner?”

I nod. Need to set up anyway and write a letter and somehow brief the crew. This is so much more work than it’s worth. I better get paid.

Eren stumbles in, hair a mess and eyes still glazed. “If you two rip your stitches one more time I won’t doctor you anymore!”

“Eren.” I’m a bit aghast, I’ve never seen him like this. Frantic. “Are you okay?”

“’M fine. Levi told me, also I heard. God you’re so loud.” Eren says through a yawn and rubbing his eyes of sleep. Jean’s eyes widen and his face reddens. “Seriously though. No more strenuous activity. That includes sailing or any kind of exercise till me, Levi or Master Chang clears you to do so. Is that understood? I’m dead serious Marco you almost died, I had to dig the bullet out of your fucking chest. Same to you Jean, you lost way too much blood to have that cocky smirk horse-face.”

Horse face? I mean sure Jean does have a somewhat long face and his squinty eyes don’t do much to help that, but he looks nothing like a horse. But Eren is right, we both lost too much blood and I came way to close to meeting Lady Death than I’d ever want to.

“You’re just jealous I’m getting some while you’re stuck being celibate.” Jean teases, probably to hide his own discomfort.

“I literally have no interest in that.” Eren says exiting the mess hall. “Just don’t bleed anymore okay, I can’t just keep patching you up, we’re in the middle of the ocean, supplies are limited.” He throws back.

“What does that mean? ‘I have no interest’?” I ask Jean. He shrugs.

“I don’t know, I do notice that his eyes don’t wander as they should. He doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t initiate any sexual contact at all.” Jean shrugs. “Fucking wierdo is what. Who doesn’t like sex?”

“Don’t be mean.” Scolding never works on him, but it does tell him I don’t agree. Besides, it’s not like I can spank him; I can’t with this injury, or with his. “I think I might take Armin’s advice and go back to bed. Everything hurts, do you mind writing the letter pet? I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“I don’t have a choice do I?”

“Yes you do, I could ask someone else to.” We’re heading back to our room.

“No no, might as well do it. Dad paid big money for a snotty tutor to teach me to read and write, might as well use what she crammed down my throat.” Jean sighs like he’s been asked to hold up the sky.

* * *

 

Levi doesn’t bother knocking as he walks in. (I left the door open, so I guess I can’t be too mad about it).

“Erwin sent a letter?”

“Yeah.” I place one of the letters from the drawer onto the Japanese table. Jean is squinting at one of the more lengthy ones, writing notes on a scrap paper and mumbling the lines. He’s more invested in these letters than I am. I see no appeal. He says there’s something strange about them. Whatever.

“These it?” Levi quirks his brows snagging one from the pile.

“No and quit, I just organized these!” Jean scolds. He did, he spent an hour arranging these papers by order of date.

Levi snorts and throws the paper back down.

“We’re here.” Armin announces bringing in Eren and Mikasa, Reiner follows close behind.

“Good. Let’s get started.” I announce beckoning them closer. They all sit around the table. Jean refuses to move his new project, still muttering in his native tongue.

“So what does he want?” Levi asks pouring himself some tea.

“To take down Kit.” I say. Reiner chokes on his tea.

“Is he out of his mind?” Reiner sputters, “We tried before; it didn’t work. He has a larger ship and bigger crew – all of them war criminals and rapers.”

“You are still hurt.” Mikasa adds, her brows are furrowed in worry.

“I know, I know.” I sigh. “Listen – Jean I need you to write the letter please – I’ll tell the good Commander that we can’t do it right now. With my injury and so little men it won’t be possible. I believe Connie still has the bird?” some nods, “See, maybe we can weasel out of this situation.”

I can feel their doubts, I don’t think we can weasel out of this at all. Worth a try anyway.

Sigh. “The letter said they were last seen in the Solomon Isles, Erwin didn’t specifically say _which_ isle, so… we need to stalk up on powder, maybe get some extra canons, canon balls, swords, guns, god so much. We don’t have enough money for this. Not enough men.” My temples have been rubbed raw.

“We have a tribute due.” Mikasa adds.

“Fuck.”

“Let me worry about the armory Marco,” Levi says. “Tell Smith he’s going to have to wait, you can’t spring this shit on us without some fucking prep.”

“If we’re basically going to war, we need decent medical supplies.” Eren adds. He’s been peeking over Jean’s shoulder trying to decipher the French writing he has been scribbling this whole time.

“Okay. Until we get more details I guess this meeting is…” I can’t think of the English word, sounds like injured? “done.” Not the word I was looking for, but close enough. “I’ll brief the rest of the crew in the morning. Go ahead and spread rumors, there’s no secrets on a ship.”

“If we keep at this pace we’ll make it to the isles in maybe a month, that should be enough time to get you both healed enough for battle… maybe.” Armin adds last minute. He’d been studying a map he grabbed from my ‘business’ desk.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there. There’s no guarantee they’ll be there when we get there.” Reiner shrugs. It’s stiff though.

They leave, trickle out one at a time till only me and Jean remain. Levi stayed the longest telling me about some people who owe him favors that might be able to get us some military grade weapons. I tell him to do what he can, the only high up contact I have is Ymir, and there’s no way I’m asking for her help.

“Jean, it’s time for the letter.”

“Just a minute.” He says squinting at the letter. It’s one from the 1700’s an old one nearly thirty years old. “So strange. These letters get darker as the years pass.” The way he squints at the paper makes me think he might need glasses. But he can see so well far away though. Maybe he’s… what’s the term for it… nearsighted? Farsighted? I don’t know which one applies.

“Okay, now what?” Jeans says placing the letters away and ripping out a new clean piece of parchment.

“Dear- no no, um, Dearest Erwin. Ya. Um, Dearest Erwin…” it takes a long time to get the letter out, with Jean having to use four different papers to actually write it due to my constant editing. It has to be perfect, no blotches, no misspellings.

Finally the final Product written in Jean’s beautiful handwriting (seriously he could be a scholar):

 

_Dearest Commander Smith,_

_My advice may be lacking as they are a very dangerous crew and there’s just no way we can peruse such a task. It is very unfortunate that my injury sustains me from making any drastic choices and I have been confined to my bed (doctor’s orders). Not to mention my resources are lacking and we are so far from the Solomon Isles._

_Have you ever been? Lovely place, nice waters to escape in with so many islands and coves one can come and go as they please. An experienced sailor stays clear of those dangerous waters unless they know where they’re going. Luckily I have some experience._

_So far from that side of the world we are that by the time my advice gets to you, they’ll already be gone and you’d need more so called advice to bring them down._

_How unfortunate. My advice is to not pursue them, or at least make it an accident. Besides, I’m so very low on cash these days._

_Shove a cactus up your ass, Marco Bodt._

 

“What does that last part say Jean?” he has written it in French so I can’t read a word of it. The only thing I recognize is my signature and Erwin’s name.

“Oh, uh, with all due respect.” Jean answers hiding behind a noodle bowl.

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

I leave to give the letter to Connie so he can send the bird away. When I get back Jean is once again bent over the ancient letters.

“Come to bed pet. Chang gave me some tea for the pain and I’m so tired.”

“Quit your whining I’ll be there in a minute.” Jean stretches abandoning his new hobby to get dressed for bed. I’d like to say, for the record, I do not whine.

It takes us nearly an hour to find positions that do not hurt; but when we do, we sleep like drugged babies.

* * *

 

The sun burns behind my eyelids. Opening them is a chore, so I roll over to get a face full of sand. What? Where am I? How did I get on land?

Coughing I sit up, stand, and stroll to the tree line. Something slithers in my peripheral, it’s long and a sludge brown in color. Must be a snake. That’s a really big snake.

I’m in a densely populated forest of nothing but tall conifers I’ve never seen before. It smells so nice here, like pine cones and leaf rot. Trees and water from the babbling creek somewhere nearby are the only sounds I can hear. Where are the birds? If I listen closely I can hear the ocean gently lap at the shore I just left. That strange snake like creature I thought I saw slither out of the salty waters and into the trees still has me weary. Why did I go into the very place it slithered into?

I stand in a clearing soaking in the sun’s rays as they filter in through the dense canopy. When was the last time I stood among something so majestic and unchanging? Where did the bird song go? Where are the animals?

A twig snaps.

The leaf rot smell gets worse. Slowly I turn around to see Jean. There’s something different about him. He’s almost grey in color, his lips are a dusty blue, sclera black making the amber of his irises to stand out more. His freshly cut undercut seems to be made of thin strands of straw. Clothes are rumpled and he walks like he only just learned. Jean wears no shoes. No clothes at all in fact, where are his genitals? Where did his clothes go?

“I thought a different form- a different place- would make you see- to understand.” The face that bears Jean’s croaks. It’s not Jean. I back away. Who is this? Why does he look like my Jean? “I’ve only ever seen the forest from afar; never even stepped in one even though I was once a tree- many trees in fact. Quite possibly an entire forest – though I have no memories of that so called existence. I hope I got it right.” Other Jean says gesturing around us, smiling in what might be pride.

The face flickers. I don’t know how to explain this flickering. Like, it keeps some semblance of the face it wears but changes somehow.

It’s with a sickening jolt I realize this… Other Jean, is the same one that has been invading my dreams for weeks now. Possibly years.

“Get away from me.” I back away, stumbling and bumping into roots and bushes.

“Why are you so afraid of me?!” _It_ wails. “I do everything for you! You say you love me then go and-” _It_ stomps its’ foot in anger. An angry flush takes over and It grinds its’ teeth. “Why do you keep taking others when you have me!?”

I don’t understand.

“Who are you?” the forest seems to vibrate, like the tremors before an earthquake.

“Who am I?” _It_ repeats in a soft crushed whisper. “Why don’t you know? I- it’s all _his_ fault! You always choose them over me!” _It_ violently points its’ grey finger to a crumpled form laying on the ground. It’s twitching and moaning.

“Jean!” I run to him. Pine needles stick to his dirty clothes. He looks as if he’s been beaten, but has no bruises to show for it. He moans in pain, eyes and teeth clenched. “Jean! It’s me, Marco. Come on, wake up!”

“Stop! No! You love me! Me!” _It_ stomps its’ foot like a tempered child. Love? That? I shake my head in disbelief. Who is that? _It_ no longer bares Jean’s face, only having a blank slate just like-

There’s a strange crackling coming at us. The temperature rises with every second.

 _It_ continues to wail, the world around me begins to crack. _It_ begins to chant something in a language I’ve never heard. The heat intensifies.

“Jean!” I shake him but he’s not waking. A glance back freezes me in terror. A fire. It’s coming right at us, as if it’s running. I can’t run, not without Jean, it would catch us anyway. It’s too late.

The flash fire engulfs us, I feel such incredible heat. A scream.

Suddenly the heat is gone. I gasp, hyperventilating in smoky air. I taste ash.

Unbelievable, I’m unharmed. Filthy sure, but not a single burn, as if the fire only glance me. But that’s not- it was right on top-

“AH!” I leap back upon realizing I hold a blackened corpse. “Nonononono Jean!” who else could it be? One touch and the body dissolves into ash. What-? I don’t understand- how?

“Why can’t you let him go?” _It_ asks forlornly. “He doesn’t love you like I do, he doesn’t love you at all. _I_ do.”

“What did you do to him!? Bring him back!” I scream, searching the blackened forest for any sign of my Jean.

“ERAHH!” _It_ screams tackling me into the ground, instead of landing on hard soil I land in salt water. _It_ is back to being a diseased mermaid. “WHY CAN’T YOU SEE ME?”

I can’t breathe, its pulling me under, I can’t- I can’t breathe! _It_ has its’ clawed finger around my throat, the slimy tail wrapping around flailing legs. _It_ shouts but all that comes out are black bubbles, I’m losing consciousness. I… can’t… breathe…

* * *

 

I wake gasping for air. Jean is squirming, screams muffled by the pillow he’s shoved himself into. He’s sweating just as bad as I am. He struggles like someone is holding him down and he’s trying to escape.

“Jean!” I shake him but he doesn’t wake. “Jean!” he won’t wake up. He’s mumbling things I do not understand, things in a language I’ve never heard. I don’t know what to do, even slapping him isn’t waking him.

It’s too dark to see and the heat in this room is unbearable.

“Marco!” Jean sobs eyes shooting open with a gasp and a choking cough.

I open the window and we lay there in bed sweating and not breathing a word of our nightmares. I can’t shake the feeling that we had the same nightmare.

Neither of us fall back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oceans Away side stories is in no way linear. its what ever I feel like posting that's not here (may be canon or not canon) i'll let you know on each chapter. wont update as often as this. *cough*


	23. Dysphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ymir???????????
> 
> Anxiety.
> 
> Eren???????????
> 
> Anxiety.

Ymir decided to visit today. Scared the shit out of me. She barged into the room, door ramming against the wall with a loud _bang._ Had me jumping and clenching my chest in absolute fright. I’m completely embarrassed by the ungodly yelp I made which had Ymir laughing for several minutes.

Which is strange. Her sudden visit, not the laughing. Kind of expected that being she’s a raging bitch on her good days. She’s several weeks early. I think… with all the drugs I’ve been taking lately and the little to no sleep from pain and nightmares (often times both at the same fucking time), time has completely escaped me.

Anyway, I had just dozed off after breakfast. After last nights’ nightmare I couldn’t go back to sleep while it was still dark. I don’t know where Marco fucked off to, he was gone when Ymir let herself in.

Did I mention my neck hurts? Yeah, I don’t think I have. Eren thought with me healing so well the meds or whatever they’ve pumped me with should be cut back. Shit. How long has it been? A week? Really? Only a week? Feels so much longer than that. God, it’s going to leave such an ugly scar.

I want my drugs back.

Ymir now sits talking in some stupid language I don’t know to lovely Krista. I try to go back to sleep (in my own bed because I found that it’s more comfortable while laying propped up and pillows pilled around me – to discourage fidgeting). But Ymir’s stare prevents such a task.

“What is it Ymir?” Dare I say her stare has a slight concern feel to it?

“What the hell did Marco do to you?” she scoffs. There’s that concern again. How sweet.

“You should see Marco.” My attempt at humor fails. “Nah, he did not do it. Some asshole decided to mutiny and thought me as a hostage would make Marco give up his pretty boat.” I clear my throat and adjust till I’m as up as I’m willing to get.

“Mutiny?” surprise tones both their words.

“Why are you here anyway?” I really don’t want to deal with this. Is it so hard to ask for one peaceful day?

“My money.” Ymir states. Isn’t she early? “Where’s my old stray?”

“Fuck if I know.” Don’t care either. Just let me sleep.

They go back to talking in that language. Their soft voices lull me back to sleep quickly.

* * *

 

“Jean.” The voice is soft and comes with a gentle shake. “Jean.” Another shake.

“Go away.” Goddammit, I just fell asleep. No dreams this time though. Jesus, that nightmare was intense last night. So much fire; who the fuck _was_ that guy?

“Jean, pet, it’s rude to sleep through a visit.” Marco says a bit hurried, almost panicked and slightly whiney, like he doesn’t want to be alone.

Marco urging me to get makes me grumpy as I finally join them at the table for lunch. Krista and Ymir are already eating.

It doesn’t take long after I’ve sat down for the mighty Empress to demand her money. “Where’s my money?” she says after taking a sizable gulp of what I hope to be strawberry wine. Fucking love that shit.

Marco’s eyes widen while he gulps and tries to look everywhere but her. He licks his lips. “I-” Fuck I’m too sleepy for this shit. Just give her the money so she can goooo.

“Well?” Ymir leans forward, even Krista appears menacing. What’s up their asses?

“I don’t have it.” Marco finally mumbles to his folded hands laying limp in his lap. “I- I have been injured and there has been storms and sickness and no-no one in the waters, the navy, the-” Marco’s voice is shaking and fast, slipping into some Chinese here and there. His accent heavy in his fright. Is he really scared of them? Ymir’s brow raises.

Silence, tense silence fills the heavy atmosphere of the room. I feel the need to fidget. Instead I fill my plate with food no one else is eating. Guess Sasha decided to kill one of her precious chickens. Sweet. I like them too, they’re fun to feed, but I’m so hungry for meat right now I don’t care enough to morn a damn chicken. Plus her chicken dumplings are to die for.

“I’m sorry Ymir, I lost a lot of men to the mutiny. Please understand.” He pleads.

“We’ll need compensation.” Krista delicately places a few grains of rice I her mouth. I can’t help the creepy prickling feeling causing goose bumps to race across my skin as she eyes me.

“No! No please!” Marco pleads. What’s he pleading for? He jerks so hard he ends up hurting himself, he curls a bit in pain. Goddammit, I’m going to have to hear about that shit from Eren.

“Did you take that tea shit?” I ask. “Eren said he won’t keep patching you up if you keep ripping your stitches.” Maybe if I bring up our injuries whatever is up their asses will crawl out.

“I’m fine.” Marco grunts sitting back up. There’s a flash of concern that flashes through both girls' eyes.

“What happened?” Ymir finally asks taking a nonchalant approach.

Me and Marco glance at each other. I can feel a scowl forming, Marco always laughs at me when I scowl. Says it’ll get stuck that way. Psh, whatever. Marco clears his throat before quickly telling them everything, sweating and so unsure of his words. I’ve never seen him like this and I don’t like it.

“Poor, poor little Marco.” Ymir laments after the brief and very stutter filled tale. She no longer appears concerned, not a single note of distress within her silky smooth words.

I’ve never seen Marco so anxious before; its unsettling and making my own breath speed. Ymir has these glimmering gold eyes that slit like a snake who’s caught the mouse. Krista has her pretty face twisted into a look of royalty disgusted, sipping her red wine delicately. Marco gulps and sullenly stares at his lap.

“It’s the truth.”

“Oh, we don’t doubt that dear.” Krista says leaning over to place her glass on the table.

“Then what the fuck is your problem?” the defensiveness in my voice surprises me.

“The problem is _Frog_ that dear _Freckles_ owes me money. Money I know he has.” Ymir growls. First of all fuck you; second of all, why would Marco lie about that?

“I don’t!” Marco growls back. Okay, that shouldn’t be hot. I mean Marco isn’t an aggressive guy, he tries to stay calm. (Ironic given his profession). I guess his infinite patience can get a bit creepy, but today…today he seems to have little patience. Must be sleep deprivation. There’s also something like panic and fear seeping from his pores.

“That young man Reiner seems fond should be enough compensation. Or maybe Armin. He’s cute.” Krista wonders out loud.

“I’m fairly fond of those green eyes that German boy sports. Eren would be fun to tame.” Ymir adds. They’re teasing him – I can tell – they aren’t serious; but Marco is taking them seriously.

“No! Please!” Marco begs, “You can’t do this.”

Krista shifts, the sunlight catches on something shiny and metal strapped to her creamy thigh. I gulp, wouldn’t be surprised if she had more hidden weapons. My eyes slide to Ymir who has a very expensive and fancy pistol in her sash thing in plain sight – more hidden within the folds of her clothing I’m sure. We – that is Marco and I – are literally harmless and unarmed at the moment.

“Jean certainly has an appealing aura.” Ymir’s eyes gleam, “Don’t you agree dear?” Krista smiles sweetly in response. They both look at me with those creepy sweet grins. I can’t help but gulp again – appetite lost. Muscles lock as Ymir leans forward to caress my cheek – I feel hypnotized, but not in a good way. More like the rabbit frozen in fear as the snake slithers it’s way toward it, the rabbit knowing it’s fate as it cannot escape the predator. “So feral. Like a lost kitten.” She purrs.

“Don’t touch him!” Marco yanks me back. We both groan in pain, I’m practically in his lap now while he clutches me too tightly.

“We’ll be taking the tall one.” Ymir decides, all trace of teasing gone. She’s serious, she’ll take Bertholdt. “I might even let you buy him back someday.”

“Ymir please! He’s here on his own free will! You _can’t_ take him! He doesn’t belong to me.” Marco pleads ending in a whimper. I’ve managed to unlock myself from his grip. My mind is reeling. Own? Belong? I’m not sure I understand.

“You know the law Marco. You pay us, we leave you be.” Krista gazes down on us in disdain. “Perhaps we should take someone you own then? Sasha, Levi, how about Connie? You bought him in the United States. Oh where was it… South Carolina?”

“But...” Ymir adds, “Jean is your favorite possession, isn’t he?” I’m still stuck on the fact that Marco _owns_ people to correct Bitch-face Ymir. He doesn’t own me.

He _bought_ Connie? I mean, I didn’t- slavery isn’t a _new_ thing, but- Marco- he…he _participates_ in it? There has to be a viable explanation for this. Marco wouldn’t- if I was on auction would he have bought me? According to most everyone on this wooden tub, I am Marco’s personal slave… but I’m not- slaves aren’t free to go… Am I free to go, really? These thoughts ricochet around. If I escaped, would Macro send someone to hunt me down? I have a feeling he would.

“Having to buy your family is pretty sad Marco. You should have stayed as our precious pet. But you were so _insistent_ in leaving.” Krista’s bitter voice brings me out of my head. She sounds almost regretful, also she’s being fucking rude as hell. Marco’s eyes are wide and glistening from their words.

I frown hard at her. Why are they here? They’re like two months early and it’s not even a new moon. They’re upsetting Marco and I don’t like it.

“Enough Historia.” Ymir commands, “We take Bertholdt. The repercussions will be enough of a punishment.” Her voice drips icy steel and rings with an eerie finality that causes goosebumps to scatter across my skin and sends Marco choking.

Both woman glide out of the room. They must’ve set guards because the heavy footsteps that cover the more delicate of the ladies echo around the room. A brief hesitation sends the atmosphere around me to thicken before Marco bolts after the Empress begging her to reconsider.

How much do I really know about Marco? He’s sweet, secretly a bit vain, ambitious, kind, and fierce when he wants to be, frightened… Filou jumps on the table searching for scraps to eat. The food lays forgotten and abandoned on the table.

Marco carries some hidden… secrets? I’m not sure that’s the right word… the air around me thickens till it’s difficult to breathe, like a very humid day. Filou begins to hiss and back away from me, back arched sharply. What’s the matter little man?

Ymir called Krista Historia… what does that even mean? What kind of ugly ass name is that? What’s the story behind that? Filou continues his hissing as I stand up. I feel like I’m floating. There’s a strange awareness to everything around me. I can feel the ocean beat across me, I can feel the heavy footsteps of men at work. I can hear Sasha hum as she cooks. Feel the rats scurry and burrow further within me. It’s like a dream…

I need to do something…stop Ymir… there’s a gun in the nightstand…a newer model, one that can shoot more than one bullet at a time.

I don’t remember making it out on deck. The air smells fresh and salty. The wind is light but constant, bringing the reminder that I need to cut my hair.

“Marco do something!” It’s Reiner. “She can’t.”

“I can’t.” Marco says, trembling, defeat in his tone.

Reiner is held back by two goons as large as him. Another oversized thug is trying to drag struggling and kicking Berthold across deck to get him onto the small scout ship Ymir had brought. Ymir taps her foot impatiently shouting things in her language. For some reason Krista hasn’t gotten onboard with her lover yet. Why? This could work in my favor maybe. Marco has tears ready to spill at any moment. The rest of the crew shifts around uncomfortable with whatever is going on.

The person who raises their arm to shoot Bertholdt’s thug in the head isn’t me. Well it is, but it doesn’t _feel_ like me. Me, Jean Kirschtien, afraid of blood, wouldn’t shoot a man in cold blood… would I? He drops like a sack of rocks making everyone split their wondered stares between me and the dead man. Bertholdt slips on the blood of the dead man in his haste to get as far away from the other ship as possible.

Everyone is standing there in astonishment. What the hell am I doing? This isn’t like me. I have no clue what the fuck I am doing.

One of Reiner’s thugs let go and storm toward me. In a panic I shoot again and thug number two goes down with an arterial bleed in the neck. Red liquid spurts under pressure, arching high in the air before gravity pulls it down to fall with the body. I was aiming for his shoulder. Also, I’m not sure how many bullets this gun has.

The last thug backs away, uncertain of his fate. Haha, same. Reiner quickly rushes away toward Bertholdt where they hug tightly. Are they a thing? A womanly sigh draws my attention to Ymir who appears very disappointed and reaching for the pistol in her sash.

_Bang!_

I jump along with everyone else. There’s a collective gasp and a screaming shout of “Ymir!” from dear Krista. I just fucking shot Ymir. Shit. The pirate empress stumbles holding her shoulder. Oh thank god, I don’t like her anymore, but I don’t want her dead.

Marco hasn’t stopped begging me to stop. I won’t. I can’t. No really, I can’t; doesn’t anyone see how bad I’m shaking, how many gallons of sweat I’m sweating? Like a sinner in church. Why hasn’t he come over to do so? A flickering gaze toward him shows Levi holding onto Marco’s arm. He looks grave and foreboding. So the usual. Haha. I’m so dead.

Ymir has recovered enough to grab her pistol.

Uh oh.

I grab Krista as she makes a break to the other ship and dig the barrel into her temple. No one stops me, she barely even puts up a fight. I feel terrible about this. Krista is such a sweet girl and I’m literally putting a gun to her head. I’m going to hell for this for sure. But I’m tired of people getting their way, sick of being pushed around, disgusted by being treated like an object or some common whore. I am not an object, I have thoughts and feelings just like anyone else. My life hasn’t been in my hands since the time I was the short fat kid no one wanted to play with. I have my own destiny that I choose, no one else. The next person to interfere with what little happiness I possess will… will… I don’t know! Something.

The barrel digs into Krista’s temple, I hope she doesn’t feel how hard I’m shaking. She’s so short, barely coming to my chest so holding her is awkward. The gun is probably empty. How many shots…three? Ymir snarls and aims her own pistol at (I think, my vision is starting to blur) my head. No one moves, no one dares breathe. The silence is deafening. Still I can hear Marco’s tiny panicked hiccups and the waves crashing against us-me and the occasional scuffle of unsure feet; a sneeze somewhere in back, an uncomfortable cough close by.

Ymir is pissed and I’m sure I’m going to die today. I’m not even sure it’s worth it. What am I doing? Krista is probably covered in knives, and even if I end up shooting her Ymir is a revenge gal, she’ll just shoot me anyway. Ymir’s power outweighs us all, yet no one moves. Strange. So very strange.

“Go away.” I say. OhmygoddidIreallyjustsaythat? ‘Go away’??? Fucking voice cracked and strained and everything. Good-bye, I’ll leave for ever now. “One wrong move and the next bullet goes into her brain.” If there is another bullet that is. At least I sound confident – like I’m not joking. At least people are going to take me serious now. Maybe.

“Jean stop!” Marco yells. Even from where I stand I can see his chest heave in agitation. He looks really mad.

“No.” I don’t take my eyes off Ymir. If she shoots I lose. Krista’s too short to hide behind.

“Listen to your master, boy.” Ymir’s snake eyes are back. She smirks as if she’s won. Think again witch.

“I’m no man’s possession. I stay with him on my own free will.” I do. I really do. Admitting it in front of everyone makes me feel nauseous. “I can come and go as I please, he has no power over me. I stay with Marco because-” why? Why have I stayed? Because I have nowhere else to go. Because- “because for the first time in my life I feel content.” And deep down I know it’s true. I like the life on the high seas. And I even enjoy Marco’s company. Being a pirate ain’t so bad. Could do without all the fear and stress it gives me though.

“J-Jean.” Marco whispers. Tears have finally spilled as he slumps under the weight of my awful embarrassing confession. Add blushing to the uncomfortable sweating and the trembling.

I can feel the aura of the ship change from uncertainty to ready. Everyone on this boat is ready for a fight. I’m not. Please not fights please. I don’t need another life threatening injury. We’re all going to die.

“How sweet.” She cocks her pistol. Queue audible gulp.

I don’t know what to do honestly – didn’t think I’d get this far. What was I thinking!? God, Marco looks like he’s about to pass out or dehydrate from how much he’s sweating. She’s going to kill me – either Ymir or Krista it doesn’t matter because we’re all going to die. They’re going to chop me into pieces and throw me to the sharks. They’re gonna-

Suddenly Ymir’s shoulders begin to shake, then she begins to laugh like she’s just witnessed the funniest thing in her life. What the fuck is so funny? Okay, I probably look pretty pathetic, but that’s no reason to laugh the way she is. She waves her pistol and puts it back into its’ holster on her thigh, grimacing as she does. She must be in a lot of pain, there’s so much blood dripping down. I’m going to throw up.

“Nice to know someone around her has some balls.” I don’t miss the ‘covert’ eye slide to poor trembling Marco. Ymir chortles then screams behind her to order her crew to leave. As the ship pulls away, remaining crew still onboard Marco’s ship jump for it, one particular clump seems to be holding something… probably just a buddy..?

“Hope you can swim.” I whisper into Krista’s ear as I push her over the railing. I feel bad, but that sounded so cool. There’s a yelp and a small splash as she lands.

The gun had dropped with a dull _clank_ as I hurried Krista overboard. Doesn’t matter, don’t need it anymore.

I get lost in the silence as Ymir’s ship disappears over the horizon. The lulling of the waves and the gentle rock of the ship bobbing somewhere in the ocean (I don’t even know where we are) has me hypnotized. And I still feel the rats hiding from the people. I haven’t seen a rat since I got here…

“Jean!” I jump about a mile in the air at Marco’s shout. The slap that follows and my sudden meeting with the floor catches me completely off guard. Fuck that hurt. He starts screaming at the top of his lungs in Chinese. His cheeks are red and his eyes blaze. I catch only bits and pieces with my limited understanding like “Idiot!” and “Unbelievable!” and other such things. I’m too much in shock to respond.

The crew try to go back to business as usual, but my scolding is loud and in the middle of everything. Just kill me now, as if I can be more embarrassed.

“What the hell are you all looking at!? Get the fuck back to work!” Marco screams into the air. Everyone jumps at his words – including me. “And put him in the brig.” A tanned finger stabs in my general direction before he storms off shoving people out of his way.

Wait, what?

The brig is what I get for saving his ass?

It’s Reiner that grabs my upper arm and hauls me up to stand. “Captain’s orders.” He says, an apology in his tone. What? No, fuck you. I’m trying to worm out of his grip, but he holds firm. “Thanks, for what you did. I doubt I’d- _we’d_ see Bertholdt again if Lady Ymir took him.” He’s dragging me toward the hatch that leads inside the deepest pits of the ship. “Marco appreciates it too – I’m sure – he just needs to set an example of it is all.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Yeah, _real_ assuring. There’s got to be more to it though. Why would Marco react like he did? So violently. That’s not like him.

We pass Levi complaining about the dead bodies and how he “Literally just cleaned the fucking deck.” As Reiner herds me into the lower levels. The deeper within the ship he drags me (I’m not going willingly) the darker and smellier it gets. It smells like old wood, mold, and fish by the time we reach the brig.

Finally, Reiner lightly pushes me into the closest cell. I stumble and nearly face plant the bench. Jesus this place smells like piss. At least I get a bench and –oh look at that – a chamber pot in the corner. There’s no rats, but I can feel their presence, hear their tiny squeaking voices as they scurry about doing whatever it is rats do. I don’t see any mold but I can sure as hell smell it.

The door clanks shut, clicks as its locked, and Reiner’s heavy footsteps fade away.

The world comes crashing down on me and I’m suddenly exhausted; I feel shaky and frightened. Heavy racking dry sobs escape as I crumple onto the hard uncomfortable bench. The sting of where Marco hit me comes back in force, the constant burning sensation of my neck returns tenfold.

Holy _shit._

I killed another human being. What’s my count now? Four? Oh god.

I’m going to be sick.

The chamber pot is grungy and disgusting like this whole deck level, but at least it’s here. After the sickness passed I sat to wait. The bench is hardly big enough for me and it’s warped and bumpy. It’s cold down here and I have summer silks on. No blankets, no pillows, no straw or any type of comfort lies in this stupid cell.

This sucks ass.

I’m in so much pain and absolutely miserable and I’ve only been in here for a few minutes.

There’s nothing much to do other than wait.

* * *

 

And wait.

I’m sure there’s an overpowering bruise where Marco hit me. My entire face feels tender. I still can’t believe he _bitch slapped_ me hard enough to send me to the ground.

The rats aren’t afraid of my presence anymore and have ventured out of the wood works. I’ve pulled my feet up in case they get curious for a taste. I doubt that will discourage them if they really want a piece.

At least now I know where all the rats live.

It’s been a few hours and still I continue to wait.

* * *

 

And wait.

The meager light is beginning to diminish, casting ominous – and frankly scary – shadows.

My ass cheeks hurt from sitting for so long. I would pace but the floor is uneven and I really don’t want to add sprained ankle to my list of injuries.

Everything hurts. I’m hungry. I’m exhausted. I wanna go home.

They only sounds are the creaks of slowly rotting wood, the squeaks of rats, and my own uneven breathing. It’s uncomfortably disquieting.

Maybe if I go to sleep, time will pass faster, maybe this is all just one stupidly realistic dream. There’s nothing else to do after all. Hopefully the rats won’t think I’m dead and eat me alive.

This bench is really not made for comfort. The only – even remotely – comfortable position is on the back. On the side sharp shoulders and hips dig painfully into the wood. My stomach is out of the question. Unfortunately, being on my back without a pillow forces my neck to crunch inwardly.

I hate my life.

Sleep is impossible.

Isn’t worry wart Marco going to check up on his precious pet? As far as I know, no one has even glanced this way. Maybe they all forgot I exist.

* * *

 

I must have fallen asleep at some point because the sound of soft scuffling feet starts me awake. A rat rubs its furry face next to mine. It runs away before I can fling it away. It’s pitch as black, I can barely make out the outline of my hand.

“Jean.” A heavily Indian accent beckons me.

Is someone coming to get me? Finally!

“Yeah?” I stumble across to the bars. Being so far below where you can feel the bobbing more forcefully is giving me waves of seasickness I haven’t felt since I was six. The bars are cold and damp. “Bertholdt?” God I sound miserable.

“Sh. Yes.” It’s hard to see, all I can make out is his general darker outline. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“I don’t understand.” Berthold is crouched low, I crouch too.

“Captain, he…” he seems to be trying to find the right words in English, “he won’t allow anyone to you.” Marco won’t what? “You are being punished.” Oh, I see.

“For how long?” I whisper.

“Don’t know. Here.” He fumbles around till he finds my hand and places something soft and squishy in it. It smells like- bread! Yes! I’m so fucking hungry, I can’t remember the last time I ate something. “Can’t stay long. Reiner is guard and pretend to sleep so I can sneak here to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” I can feel a knot form somewhere deep within me that has nothing to do with the sea sickness.

“People who try and… help, visit you get punished too. Captain threatened the Cat. Also to say ‘thank you’.” He says slowly. The knot loosens, he’s risking himself just to tell me something I’ve already pretty much figured out on my own. Still noble of him.

Bertholdt takes a breath before speaking again. I have a bad feeling about how hesitant he’s being. “They took Eren.”

“What?” They?

“Ymir took Eren.” He repeats. _How_? He was standing right next to Levi… wasn’t he? Suddenly the vision of those men going over in a big clump like they were holding…someone…someone like Eren.

Loud coughing breaks the tense silence. “I have to go.” Bertholdt gets up and scurries away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter jumps around in time a bit. Gonna try to get Marco's time with the ladies in. Explain why vaginas are pretty triggering to him and all that. Not suppose to be funny, Marco has some major PTSD about sex because of those two.


	24. Altschmerz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. again. I've been exhausted with how extremely hot it is (the NW doesn't stop raining till june 21st and this year it hasn't rained since early may that's super abnormal for us). so yeah, the entirety of the west cost of the United States is basically experiencing a drought and it isn't fun.
> 
> Also this chapter was in pieces in my note book and not very well organized and it took longer than expected to type everything in order.
> 
> ONE MORE THING: when marco has some flash backs it has a second person pov and switches to 1st person pov, it's like the voice in your head talking to you. also there may be some trigger warning for some people who are sensitive to the flashback material.

What was he _thinking_!? How did he even _know_ about that gun!? Who am I kidding, he’s always snooping around. And he put it to Krista’s head! Oh gods, I’m in so much trouble.

Been pacing my room for hours. The searing pain that has become my only constant has gone unchecked and ignored all this time. I don’t think I’ve ever had this many panic attacks in my life. The shaking and tears haven’t stopped since the event. I’m so goddamn terrified. I could have lost Jean. He wouldn’t have been killed, but it could had been worse.

Fuck. I was willing to let Bertholdt take his place. Does that make me a bad person?

Ymir and Krista are, they’re…not nice. They play games, horrible games, using pleasure. They can be unmerciful and cruel. Like poking the frightened caged animal with a sharp stick laughing all the while. The punishments they inflict when things don’t go their way – when people disobeyed-

I was left in that cage for hours, crying, begging, with something strange inserted inside- I couldn’t move, hands tingled painfully. I couldn’t cum, even my manhood hurt – caged too tightly. So thirsty…I just wanted to go home. But they laughed; Krista didn’t want me to leave. Ymir said I needed to be punished, she came in with a rod-

Frantic pounding startles the living hell out of me. It’s okay Marco, it-it was just a memory. Memories can’t hurt you.

Oh gods. What were they going to do to Bertholdt? Forget that, _I_ disobeyed, _Jean shot Ymir_.

The pounding gets louder. Frantically I desperately try to wipe the tears away. Levi throws open the door before I can compose myself.

“Eren’s missing.” He says, he looks pissed as hell.

“What do you mean ‘missing’?” the mention of Eren reminds me of just how much in pain I really am. Metaphorical starts start to dance just outside my line of sight.

“Ymir grabbed him, he’s not on this ship.”

“Grabbed? How- When?” Eren was standing right next to me…wasn’t he?

I need to sit down.

Why him? Did he just happen to be in grabbing range? Somehow I doubt that. She wanted Eren, but why? Why go through all that trouble, why not- because they wouldn’t have succeeded. Mikasa would have interfered. Does that mean they knew Jean would try and stop them? No… Ymir looked so much in surprise… I’m so confused.

“Whatever bullshit you got going on Bodt, you better fucking figure it out. You’re the captain of this fucking cursed ship so fucking act like it. Moping around like a spoilt child isn’t doing shit.” Levi raves.

Cursed? My ship is not curse. Why does every one keep saying that?

“Well?” Levi’s hostility startles me. Everything startles me as of late. He stands there, arms crossed looking extra sour while I sit here with muddled brains.

“Well what? They have him and there’s nothing we can do about it right know.” Eren is much stronger than me, than Bertholdt, than Jean. He’ll last longer, take longer to break. They all do…eventually…I did.

Remember the day you broke Marco? How the sun was so bright and warm yet you hadn’t felt it in days? How Krista requested your ‘services’ and you begged to go home? The way they tied you up so _comfortably_ , but all I could think of was how the ropes chafed delicate places, how languidly Lady Krista used me. I was so aroused, but it felt wrong. Mistress became so angry at the begging and the crying that-

I feel myself slipping, no one’s there to catch me, no one ever is.

Ymir stopped the session. I thanked her, _“I want to go home.” “This is your home.”_ _“No it’s not.”_ _“Oh, Marco, don’t you like it? Look you’re still hard.”_ I ran. As soon as I was free of the ropes I ran. I didn’t care if I would drown I wanted _out_. Ymir- she caught me- the whip hurt so bad.

You remember the hopelessness you felt that night don’t you? The realization that you could never face your family again, they would disown you. That night Krista and Ymir took turns playing, the ropes too tight with your straining and fighting and you thought _“Does it matter? No one cares about me. What’s the point, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get away. They always catch me.”_

Everything went slack, so slack Mistress had to tighten the too tight ropes. My hands started to tingle, I stopped feeling my legs over an hour ago. After that I never ran, I never fought back. I did as I was told like a good pet. Krista didn’t want you any more after that _“He’s a broken toy, he won’t even get hard anymore Ymir. We broke him- no we shattered him.”_ You remember how _disappointed_ she was. The _look_ Ymir gave you.

I don’t understand- I-I complied- I did as told- I was a good pet- I-

“Pathetic.” Levi snorts and storms away. I’d forgotten he was even there.

And yeah, I know.

There’s no hope for Eren, not until the next time the Empress decides to pay a visit. I should do something…plan...address the crew…talk to Mikasa, or should I let her come to me? No doubt she’s murderous right now. And what to do with Jean? I can’t just leave him in the brig indefinitely. Need to think of a better punishment than that. I can’t turn into them.

“Marco?” Armin’s clear voice drags me away from feeble thoughts.

“What?” the sound that comes forth sounds inhumanly sad. Can I sound any more pathetic? At least it’s Armin and not Mikasa, at least he’s a diplomat. He won’t hurt me…physically.

“Marco,” he repeats. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?!” I become dizzy with how fast I stand, “You think this is fine? How can you possibly- Krista and Ymir have Eren. Do you know what they will do to him, what they’re capable of?” my voice is borderline shrieking while I pace.

“I have a pet in the brig because he can’t seem to get it through his thick skull to just do as he’s told! A crew who most likely thinks I’m the biggest push over to ever exist taking orders and _fearing_ two _women_. I’m wounded and weak and so goddamn pissed.” Hyperventilating hurts like a broken rib. “And you call this fine!?” the yelling has gotten louder with every word.

No doubt even Thomas in his nest heard. I know I slip into Chinese somewhere during the rant, yet Armin remains unfazed and patiently waits. “You don’t seem to understand the position I am in. I’ve been mutinied against once, I can be again. You- no one knows the shit that has to be done to appease Mistress. They’ll do awful things to Eren, to Bertholdt, Jean, anyone they take a fancy to.” I end sobbing into the floor in the midst of yet another panic attack.

I can’t seem to get enough air, someone is pressing down on my chest, and the world is spinning and shrinking.

I’m so pathetic. I can’t even stand up to two measly women.

I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. _I hate them._

“Eren will be fine.” Armin once again brings me back to the present. He’s so calm. He hobbles in closing the door behind him and sits on the ottoman gingerly.

“How do you know that?” bitter is the taste of those words. Isn’t he even a little worried about his friend? I’m panicking and I barely know the guy.

“Because I know _him._ ” His crutches fall over in a downward swell the ship takes, yet he makes no move to pick them back up. “Mikasa spends so much time mothering him, sometimes she forgets that Eren can manage himself. The entire world sees him as some naive angry German kid. And he is. But that doesn’t mean he’s incapable.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Go away Armin. The last thing I need is another person lecturing on how pathetic I’m being.

“Were you thrown out of your home by men with torches? Have you watched countless people die of a killer no one can see? Did you wake up every morning fearing you were next? That your last remaining guardian will never come home? No? Eren did, Mikasa did, I did.”

“So what?” So my tragic childhood (teenhood) doesn’t count for anything huh? I’m getting angry again. I don’t think it’s healthy for my emotions to be fluctuating out of control like this.

I knew taking on the _Passenger_ was a bad idea. But I needed the money and there were so many rich people aboard. But look what that got me. A disobedient pet, a mutiny, and my ass in trouble with one of the most powerful person on this side of the planet. Should have let Jean just go on auction like originally planned, at least then I’d get some profit out of him. They’re all bad luck.

I feel a terrible twist in my gut at the thought. It’s like my stomach and heart clench at the same time. Jean’s probably having similar thoughts. Stuck in a dark, cold, dank cell with no one to vent to. Well, maybe when he gets out he’ll be good for once.

“What I’m trying to say is: our experiences are different. You’re just a farm boy forced into a world you didn’t grow up in, let alone comprehend at the time. Even before the plague, Shinganshina wasn’t the safest place for a child to grow up. It was difficult to survive with all the traffickers, thieves, murders, rappers. You name it, Shinganshina’s dirty underground had it. Most of the city was filthy, disease ridden and poor. We were forced to live that every day. And because of that we have the unfortunate ability to get use to situations such as these, to adapt quickly.” Armin takes a breather. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much.

“What I’m getting at is Eren will be fine. I can guarantee he’ll be at the next port or the next. He can read maps well enough to find his way around, and if he doesn’t, he knows the port we’ll be stopping by and have been taking some Chinese lessons from Levi, so he knows enough to maybe ask some directions. We’ve done this before. Eren knows the steps to survive.” He finishes.

“When?” I sniff. Maybe I am over reacting. I mean Eren fought so well the night of the mutiny, I’m sure he’ll be able to at least defend himself or at least make a point to Ymir and Krista. I mean, they have changed a little, they aren’t as forceful as they used to; maybe they’ll leave Eren alone…

“In France. Did Jean ever tell you how we met?” Armin asks, he tone is light and friendly, like it always is.

“Not in detail. Just said Eren punched him in the face for no reason.” I wipe away the snot and tears on the sleeve of my tunic. It’s fine, need to change anyway.

“I’ll let him tell you what really happened.” Armin bends over to grab his crutches, his leg should be healed by now. “Want Sasha to get Jean’s dinner ready?” he asks standing.

“No.” It came out harsher than intended. “Jean is to have no contact on punishment of the whip. I will not have my authority undermined any longer. He will receive no food or water till his punishment is over. Is that clear Mr. Arlet?” I’ll need to speak with the entirety of the crew, speak with Jean, Mikasa…sigh so much to do.

“Yes sir.” Armin tersely. He doesn’t like that. Neither do I, but spanking him will only make both our conditions worse. A day or two without substance won’t harm him.

“I’ll speak with Mikasa, get her off your back. I think you should speak with her though, smooth out some hostility… There’s a chance Eren might need some sort of help, and I would like to know whether or not you two have a plan.” Armin says during his process of hobbling over to the door and opening it.

Sigh. “Thank you Armin. I will.” He leaves with a small nod.

I should really talk to Mikasa.

* * *

 

When Mikasa first came on board she was simply a passenger with a lot of money, picked her up in Portugal and carried her all the way to Japan. Whatever happened in Japan must not have ended well because she came right back and instead of going home she asked to be part of the crew. I don’t know why, she said countless times how much she missed her family back in France but never bothered to make her way there.

When Mikasa became part of the crew, she demanded her own room with a door. She was so weary of the burly men I had at the time. They were all big and lustful so I couldn’t blame her. It seemed like she no longer felt safe with Sasha and her girls down in the kitchens. So I complied. After all, a girl needs her privacy.

Mikasa’s door is of dark wood. Much darker than the wood surrounding.

I’m hesitant on knocking. She doesn’t want to see me. I’m the reason her brother was kidnapped. But I need to apologize. She’s a loyal and good friend.

I get three loud raps before the door is opened by Sasha. They’re close friends, so it’s not unusual for them to be around each other.

“Oh, Marco.” She says, “I was just leaving. Lunch and dinner still need to be made.” I side step to let her leave.

“Mikasa?” I step in cautiously, waiting for some sort of dagger or bullet to come flying in through the dark. The air in her room smells fresh with a hint of rose lavender. “Can I speak with you?”

“Why not?” Mikasa answers. She sounds tired. Her voice comes from the darkest corner of the room, I can barely see her silhouette holding a wine bottle taking a generous sip as I walk further in.

Normally Mikasa’s room is brightly lit, the windows always open, lanterns and candles strategically placed so one can see anywhere they go. Today it’s dark, the heavy curtains drawn, few candles are lit. They smell like roses.

There’s a piles of clothing on the floor. Many too small or not in Mikasa’s taste. Must be the boys’. Eren’s jade outfit lays next to a tattered kimono. Her room is a mess with books, papers, bedding, and clothing strewn all over the place. Pillows and blankets lay in nest like piles. And it clicks.

Eren and Armin sleep with Mikasa. Those books are medical and historical, I know Mikasa enough that she has no real interest in either. It makes me realize how much I’ve seen her smile since her reunion. She was so happy and I’m directly responsible for Eren’s capture. I feel like absolute shit.

Sigh. “Mikasa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” It sounds weak and a tad bit whiney. What else can I say? Sorry is all I ever am.

“It’s not your fault Marco. Krista takes what she wants like the noble bitch she is.” Another sip. “Besides, Eren won’t give in. He doesn’t even like sex.”

“They might just need a doctor.” I offer weakly. Mikasa gives me a look I can barely see through the gloom. Yeah, I didn’t think so.

“You know, I think they’ve changed. They haven’t had a pet since you.” She offers me a glass but I politely refuse. I don’t think getting drunk is good for me right now.

“How do you know that?”

“Annie.”

“You guys are pretty close.” I think. I mean, they talk to each other more than anyone else.

“No we aren’t. And those rumors of us having sex are false. She’s like Eren.” She pauses to take another drink. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her get drunk. I bet it’s funny, or terrifying. “I think I am too.”

“What?” I haven’t really left the door way. I feel the itch to leave, like Mikasa wants to be alone for a bit. Not that I can blame her.

“Frigid.” She says. “Someone with no desire for sex.” She finishes. “Is there anything else Marco?”

“N-no, I just wanted to-” sigh, she doesn’t need my sorry excuses. “I’m going to address the crew in a few minutes. You should be there too.”

“I will.”

I leave her alone shutting the door behind me. I need to make myself a bit more presentable. More Captain like.

* * *

 

The sky has darkened to a vibrant indigo but the time I’ve deemed myself ready to stand at the helm to address my confused crew. Stars are already starting to twinkle. The sun is halved by the horizon casting dark orange that desperately tries to hold back the indigo. Sometime tomorrow we’ll make port. Maybe? I can’t be sure of anything now and days.

It takes three tries to whistle loud enough to get people’s attention. Geeze, Jean is so much better at this. I should get a bell or something. Eventually people pile around the lower deck looking up at me and waiting for my words. I have Levi to translate my Chinese to English and nervous Bertholdt to translate English to Hindu (Urdu?).

 _“As many of you already know, Lady Ymir and Lady Krista paid us a two week early visit and stole Eren Jaeger, our ship’s doctor.”_ I pause so the translators can catch up. Also, so I can think of what else to say. There are bored stares and some understanding nods all around.

 _“I must apologize for my behavior. I did not act very much like a captain should. To be completely honest, they caught me unprepared. The Ladies frighten me very much, I know firsthand the things they do to those who defy them.”_ Another pause. How do I proceed from here?

 _“Now, down to business.”_ What was that again? Oh right, Jean and Eren. _“My pet Jean is to have no contact what so ever for as long as I deem so. That includes bringing him food and water.”_ I look directly at Sasha when I say this. She hates people going hungry.

 _“Any rule breakers will receive at least a dozen lashes and be left tied to the mast for the rest of the day.”_ I let that sink in while Levi and Bertholdt translate, there’s nervous scuffles about. I can’t honestly remember the last time that punishment was carried out. _“I will no longer let people undermine my authority. The next person to disobey a direct order is thrown overboard. Whether or not that person is able to swim back is up to them.”_ I make my words as harsh as I can.

I must look an absolute mess. My hair isn’t brushed, I haven’t bathed in god knows how long (it’s only been two days, but it feels longer), eyes must be blood shot to hell, clothes disheveled and wrinkled. God I must look terrible. I don’t see Mikasa in the crowd.

 _“Mr. Arlet has informed me not to worry about Mr. Jaeger. That Mr. Jaeger will surely turn up in the next few ports. Let’s hope that it is so. If not, it’s about time someone shows those She-devils what happens when you take my men.”_ I hope that sounded confident because I sure as hell will never stand up to Ymir like that. I can barely look her in the eye let alone ask for Eren back.

Bertholdt finishes his translation just after Levi.

 _“Any questions?”_ I wait a few minutes but no one says anything or make any notion of wanting to say anything more. Very well then. I stand down and the crowd disperses back to their respective jobs.

I’m on my way back to my room, to make myself more presentable to the public eye, when Mikasa appears behind me. I would be lying if I said she didn’t scare the hell out of me. How does she do that?

“Come with me.” She says walking away.

So, I follow Mikasa down into her room. Lanterns and candles are once again lit. The gentle smell of rose and lavender wafts from her many candles. Finally I can see the bright colors of her room.

Her room is much smaller than mine and still holds the mess from earlier. Armin is already in here, reading at Mikasa’s desk his now un-casted leg stretched out on a pillow.

“Did Master Chang finally take off the cast Armin?” I would think it would have been off weeks ago, but I’ve never broken a leg before. An arm and three different fingers three different times, but I don’t know if legs heal the same rate as arms and fingers.

“Yes, it still smarts a little, but Master Chang thought it best to start exercising the leg so it won’t atrophy too bad. It just tingles a little when I walk.” Armin says smiling. It must feel good to be free of that heavy cast.

“Drink?” Mikasa asks bringing my attention to her, wasn’t sure why she brought me down here, but know I do.

“Please.”

She leads me to a nest pile at the far left wall, just barely in reach of Armin. There’s a gaming table with very short legs in the middle of the blankets and pillows. We sit opposite of each other. The blankets smell like the room, but there’s a slight sandalwood and sweat smell – a manly smell I suppose. Must be from the boys.

Mikasa clinks two glasses down on the table and pours wine for the both of us. Honestly, I’m looking forward to getting drunk. I’m a light weight, but at least my hangovers aren’t as bad as I’ve heard and seen. Just a little nausea and a headache, nothing some tea can’t help.

“Joining us Armin?” Mikasa asks holding up a third glass.

“Maybe later.” He turns a page.

We’re in on a few drinks when Mikasa finally decides to speak. “You said Ymir and Krista stopped if you said no. is that true?” The tiny clink of her glass landing on the table sounds especially loud to my ears. So this is why she wanted me drinking.

I gulp, hands suddenly shaking. There’s that panic again. Of course they were respectful of my limits. They took me seriously- Krista took care-

 _“Marco. Is. It. True?”_ her slow Chinese stops me from having a full blown panic attack again.

“No.” and once again I’m sobbing. It’s so unexpected Armin jumps and Mikasa draws back in surprise.

“Tell me.” She says gently and takes my hand. Armin pretends to read but I know he’s listening.

“I begged and begged, but they never stopped. It hurt sometimes. Everything I did was wrong.” The tears are hot and fat, rushing down like a monsoon. I’ve accumulated so much mucus in such a short time that it has become difficult to breathe. “Mikasa- I’m so s-sorr-yy. Wh-what they did to me they’ll do to Er-Eren.”

“Were there good times?” Asks Armin. Mikasa hands me a cloth to wipe my steady dripping nose. She gets up to lock the door and to make sure the window is the same.

“Huh?”

“Good times. Were there times you…enjoyed their toying?”

“Maybe in the very beginning. I was just frightened and didn’t understand when they spoke to me. It was such a relief when Ymir began speaking Chinese to me. Krista fed me, clothed and bathed me. She took extra care of me, I thought they were bringing me home.”

“But they didn’t” Armin says in the pause I’ve taken to wipe my nose again. It’s starting to get sore.

“No. Then Krista made…advances. I was unsure, I’d never- you know.” Mikasa chuckles a little. When I look back now I realize how clueless I was. It was just like magic that this beautiful woman just wanted to have sex with me. Just like that. “I tried to…to help I guess, touch…but Ymir tied me down, and Krista just used me like that.”

I shrug. Never even seen a naked woman before those two. Armin urges me on, why do they care? No one cared before. “They’d let me watch sometimes. Suppose that was fun. Ymir would never touch me sexually and would never allow me to touch her or her Krista.”

“Is that all that happened? That doesn’t sound so bad.” Armin has officially abandoned his books. Mikasa hasn’t stopped pouring the wine and I haven’t stopped drinking it.

“It got worse. I wanted to go home, I wasn’t happy. They’d…hi-hit me.” I feel so small and vulnerable, like the times they’d spread me wide both inside and out. I hated those days.

“How so?” Mikasa has sat close to me, carding strong fingers through my hair. I feels nice, soothing.

“Wh-whips. Paddles. Slaps.” I huddle closer to myself nursing the half empty cup. “It was never fun. Always hurt. But they only ever did it when I disobeyed.” I’ve never told anyone this. No one ever cared. No one cares about me. They’d all leave me if they had better options. Dump me because I’m broken.

“Why? What happened after?” Armin breathes deeply. He know sits in Mikasa’s spot.

“Because I’d try to escape. All the time almost every day. They’d leave me tied up for hours and hours, even a full day, in the brig, their rooms…even out in the o-open. The cages were the worst, they’d leave me in those for days, no room to move and no way to be comfortable. It was only ever pleasant when I-” I can’t think of the English word for it. Means good, obedient, starts with a kuh sound… “-complied. If I’d escape they made a hunting game of it, anyone wh-who caught me cou-could have me for the night.” I haven’t spoken above a whisper. I feel so empty.

Mikasa gentle hands stop for a second. There it is, the disgust. “I thought Manuel was your first man.”

“He was. Ymir has maybe one man to every ten women. Those woman weren’t as caring as Krista.” Luckily Annie was the one who usually caught me. She'd just make me clean her room or give her foot rubs. Mikasa’s hands once again stroke me. She closer than ever, rocking me and hugging me. Does she do this for Eren and Armin? She’s never this talkative or outwardly caring. What has she got to gain from all this?

“Why do you care, why are you doing this Miss Ackerman?”

“I want to know what I might be dealing with when Eren comes back. And I really do believe Krista has changed and with her Ymir.” She answers. Armin remains silent looking on with pity.

We’re silent for a while. I’m downing glass after glass of wine while Mikasa keeps pouring. She’s opened a second bottle. Armin starting drinking some as well, though not as heavily as me. I’m starting to get a little bit tipsy.

“Marco.” Mikasa says.

“Yeassss?” I might be a little more than tipsy. The room is starting to spin and I’m starting to have that weird existential crisis of having a body. Whoa. My fingers move, also I want to punch something. Preferable a face. Maybe Levi’s face. He’s so god damn sour. All the time. Like a big stick is up his butt.

“I consider Jean a good friend. Have you… been doing these things to Jean?” she clutches her glass – half empty.

“Doin’ wat?” I fucked him up the butt.

“The things the Empress did to you.”

“Pshhftsh, naw. I mean, I spanked him preeetty good when he left me that first time, also he in the brig now. But naw. Asked him ‘bout gettingggg tie up. He cool wit it.” I don’t think that was in any language either of us can understand.

“That’s good to hear.” She smiles and I can see why Jean is in love with her. He loves her so much, I can see it. I wonder if Mikasa gave him a chance, how fast would Jean forget about me if she did?

“Vaginas are terrifying!” I scream. Why? Because I’m drunk as hell and it’s the truth. Armin begins to cough, I think he swallowed wrong. “I drive them all away because I can’t stand to look at them; yet woman are so pretty. I love them so much. But men are betterrrr.” I think I’m singing now.

Mikasa chokes on her drink.

“I think it’s time to get you to bed Captain.” She says help my wobbling self up.

“Yes. Yes! I’m exhausted. And in so much _pain_. Get-get _what’s his face_ – CHANG! – _need clean stuff and stuff.”_ I think I black out.

* * *

 

Morning comes with a hangover and a mouth tasting like vomit. I don’t remember throwing up last night. The last thing I remember is Mikasa putting me to bed – bless her – and Chang wrestling me into clean bandages.

Damn, what time is it? I need to speak with Jean, let him know how long he’ll be in there. Another day should straighten his attitude. Maybe another.

Jean is glaring at me. It’s more of an annoyed pout really. I had expected Jean to be clinging to the bars spewing angry curses and demanding to be let go. Not sure if I’m disappointed, had this whole speech planned out on how to calm him down and everything.

All I get is a spoilt pout and Jean glaring at some point above my shoulder. He sits on the warped bench, legs tucked into his chest. Not that I blame him there are rats everywhere. I hadn’t realized how big a problem we had till know. The cats haven’t even put a dent in their numbers.

“Do you know why you’re down here pet?” it smells down here. Like pee and vomit. I thought Levi had these decks cleaned. These are not the healthiest conditions.

“Because I saved you ungrateful ass.” He croaks. His voice sounds… accented. I mean he always had an accent, but it seems heavier today.

Of course he’d think that. “No, you made things very complicated.” I sigh and shake my head at him. “You disobeyed direct orders Jean. I can’t have authority undermined any longer. I’m making an example out of you.”

“Whatever. Can I come out now, it hurts, there’s rats everywhere, and I’m hungry.” Jean lists. He hasn’t even been in here long.

“I was hoping a night in here would help you realize not to disobey a direct order, but I see that has failed for you don’t even appear sorry. It seems you need more time to come to terms with your punishment.” Too bad, the bed was lonely last night.

Jean stands and rushes at the bars, he stumbles reaching out to clutch the bars at the last minute. “That’s not- Marcooo.” He has the cutest puppy dog face right now. “I promise I’ll be good.” He whispers, probably so Reiner doesn’t hear him.

“You’ve made that promise before.” Jean’s appearance up close is the very definition of disheveled. Hair sticking every which way, clothes wrinkled.

Jean has difficulty coming up with something to say. Guess we’re done here. As I walk away he grabs my arm, pulling me back toward him till only the bars separate us. What is he playing at? Facing him is a mistake on my part, his eyes shine with lustful promises and we both breathe deeper. Dare I say it, he looks… _seductive_.

Jean rubs my arms soothingly moving up onto my shoulders to pull me ever closer. “Do I have to stay down here? Can’t I just be chained upstairs? Like old times?” his voice is low, velvety, and heavy. I have difficulty swallowing.

“No.” I cup his face and he leans into it with a heavenly sigh. I know what’s he’s doing, and for all the act Jean puts up for being ignorant in the art of seduction, he’s no amateur. He knows exactly how to play someone.

“Can I at least have some blankets? It gets awfully chilly down here and the bench is so _hard_.” Jean’s feint accent becomes thick and rich and sexy as hell. Oh boy. He strokes my chest lovingly his head is bowed just enough where he has to look up with only his eyes through his bangs. Which only reminds me of how long my hair has gotten.

Nice try Jean.

“The arrangements are the same. No visitors, just you and your lonesome. I’ll come back for you the day after tomorrow. You can come out then _if_ you’ve learned to behave.” Jean makes a disappointed noise from the back of his throat slumping in his failure. I boop his nose.

“But I’m hungry.” He whines.

I shake my head and start to leave.

“Wait, Marco?” something in Jean’s voice makes me stop and _really_ look at him. He’s withdrawn and paler than yesterday. His eyes hold dark circles and he’s favoring his left foot, did he hurt the right? maybe I should at least allow him one blanket. “Is it- is it true you own people?” he sounds like he looks, unsure and small.

“I own you.”

“No. not like that. I mean, really own someone, like bought them, with money.” Jean once again grasps the damp bars.

“Just you.” I tell him. I don’t have any real slaves, never cared for it.

He makes an annoyed sound and mutters something like ‘you don’t own me’. “Then Connie?”

Oh. “Oh, no he’s free now. I did buy him in South Carolina. It was a supply run and I heard talk of an auction and thought it would be fun, hadn’t realized it was a human auction till I got there and saw a long line of chained dark skinned individuals.” I’ve dragged one of the guard stools so I can sit and tell him. He deserves to know. I can’t be like them.

“I stayed only because I was curious, I didn’t want any of them, then I saw Connie. He was so pale, so pale he could have passed for white and naked. Most of them were. I could count his ribs and he just looked so _sad_.” Jean listens and sits on the floor to be at my eye level. “Reiner tried to get me to leave, but I couldn’t just leave him. So I bought him.”

“So you bought him out of pity?” he asks.

“Yes.” I shrug. “He was so surprised when I got him on my ship and got him a proper bath and food and clothes, then told him he was free. Even more so when I told him I would pay him to stay and be part of the crew, he cried like a child. Ever since then he’s been slowly buying his family back, so far all he has to do is find his parents.” Finished, I begin to stand.

“That’s…kind of you.” Jean says. “What about Sasha and Levi?”

“Haha, no I never bought Levi. Don’t know where Krista got that idea.” I laugh, _own_ Levi. That’s funny. “And for Sasha, I wanted her to be a pet so I got her off one of those prison ships heading to Australia. She’s cute and I thought she’d be fun for a while. Never bedded me though, refused every turn. And I tried everything.” Jean chuckles a little.

“Is that all Jean?” Jean nods looking down at the warped boards and giving off waves of sadness. He’ll be fine. He’s strong.

On my way out, I take a moment to speak with Reiner who guards Jean. He hates this job, but no one bothers messing with a wall of muscle so I almost always pick him for some type of guard duty.

“No contact Reiner. Not even you.” I order Reiner, who at the moment is slouching in his chair nearly asleep. It’s still pretty early I suppose. “No one goes in or out but me, understand?”

“Yes sir.” Reiner yawns clearly bored out of his mind.

“I mean it Reiner. It will be your back that pays. If anyone gets caught it will add another day to Jean’s sentence and ultimately yours.” I know someone will try and help Jean. Probably Sasha to sneak him some food or something.

“No one goes beyond this point but you Captain.” He answer straightening.

“Good.” With that I leave to attend to my duties. There should be a port coming up soon.

I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: Jean has some freaky ass dreams in the cell, also some shit happens once he gets out.


	25. Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor delirious Jean

After Bertholdt left, the rest of the bread was scarfed down at embarrassing speeds. Mostly because I didn’t want the rats to attack me, I’ve heard stories that they will go into frenzies to devour whatever is in their path. It’s just stories though… they can’t be real… right?

Anyway, the queasy feeling of seasickness quelled just a little bit with something in my belly, it wasn’t much, but I’ve lived off less. One night without a sufficient amount of food isn’t going to kill me.

If the floor wasn’t sticky and covered in furry bodies, I’d just sleep there, it’d be more comfortable; but alas it is so I’ll make due with Satan’s knee cap. My cheek still stings and my neck has a burning sensation similar to a sunburn. The bench is as hard and splintery as ever.

Hope Marco comes down here soon. I’m starting to think I did something wrong.

Sleep doesn’t come easily.

* * *

 

I’m woken by a very sharp pain in my foot. It startles me so bad I end up falling off the goddamn fucking bench. Fuck. Did a rat just fucking bite me? Great, now I’m going to get the fucking plague. Just fucking wonderful.

There are no windows of any kind this far below, the only light comes from the entrance in which I am lucky enough to have the closest cell to. At least there’s some decent air flow. I can sorta tell it’s morning. How early or late I don’t know. Maybe just after dawn? It could be over cast and be midday for all I know.

Fuck that stings.

There’s not enough light to tell the damage, the sharp pain makes it feels bigger but when I ghost over with my fingertips it’s not very big. Wish I could see it. I should tell Marco when he visits. If he visits.

Maybe I shouldn’t have shot Ymir, but I panicked! That’s got to count for something right? And I put a gun to Krista’s head _and_ threw her over board. She’s never going to marry me now. God I’m such an idiot. Marco is _terrified_ of them, and I just probably made things worse.

Fucking, fuck fuck shit.

I don’t think there’s a muscle in my body that’s not sore.

“My ass hurts!” the sudden very loud (really I didn’t expect it to be so loud) vocals is followed by a just as loud snort and the sound of wood scraping and puzzled noises. Oops. Must have woken up my guard. I wonder who it is.

“Levi is that you? Can I get some water?” Wait, Levi doesn’t sleep. That sound was much too guttural to be that tiny man. “Reiner? Can I get a blanket? I’m cold!” and slightly damp from the humid air. Probably smell bad too.

No one answers me. Maybe it’s one of the other crews. The people who don’t speak English.

 _“I’m also kind of horny, can you come in here and-”_ I can’t finish the sentence with my sleep deprived giggles getting in the way. Besides, Levi is the only one here who can speak French, as far as I know.

The horny part isn’t a lie though. I just have the greatest urge to rub myself against something, to feel Marco touch me for some reason. Haven’t felt this type of horny since puberty.

I’ve been feeling awfully strange since yesterday. Like I’m floating just outside my body, giving it minute instructions on what to say and how to move, yet I don’t have ultimate control. Like a puppet who learned to live.

Isn’t there a story about that?

Ugh, my head.

I want a bath. With lots of soapy bubbles and super warm and a little toy boat in it.

Funny thing baths. I do it regularly now. At least once every week if we’re busy, three a week if we’re not. Back home baths were too much work, we’d only bathe maybe once a month if we’re lucky. Most never bathe. The ‘dirt don’t hurt’ taken literally. Winter is too much of a risk and summer leaves most everything to dry up so water become precious.

Here in the middle of the ocean there’s plenty. Don’t know how Levi filters the gross stuff in the ocean out of the water, but he does and we get all the clean water (albeit salty and fishy smelling) we want. Can’t drink the stuff though. Too bad, that would actually be really useful.

What the fuck is that noise? Sounds like… Footsteps!

Ugh, yes!

They come closer, there’s a sort of shuffle to them, like they’re tired or something. The silhouette blocks what little light filters through. It’s male, kinda tall, sorta broad… oh, it’s Marco.

“Morning Jean.” He says excitedly. I just sulk. What right does he have to be in such a good mood?

I’m getting out of this hell hole, even if I have to sell my body to do it. Marco is weak when it comes to sex, he’ll give in.

* * *

 

He didn’t give in.

What the actual fuck?

Now I’m stuck in here for another two days.

Sitting here on the floor, bumping my head repeatedly on the cage bars like an idiot. I am so use to getting my way when it comes to Marco that when he said no in that breathy chipper tone of his I thought he was kidding. Apparently not.

Guess his fears of the Empress outweighs his affection for me.

And to be honest I hardly ever follow his orders so I suppose two more days down here is slightly justified. It won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll get a blanket, or Bertholdt will sneak down here again and bring me another bread roll.

The light is brighter. My foot hurts.

Groan. Fuck.

I forgot to mention it to Marco. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I was going to ask for someone to at least come in here to change my bandages and while they’re at it check my foot.

I may have gotten caught up with the whole ‘seduce Marco’ thing. Always worked before, wonder why it didn’t work this time.

Sigh, whatever.

And so begins day two in hell.

A sigh has me sloping further and further on the floor till I’m practically laying down. I swear to god if I die down here I’m haunting the shit out of Marco.

Wonder how Eren is doing. Starting to wish they took me instead of him. At least then I’d be able to get really angry for being in the brig. Do I really deserve being down here though? I did shoot Ymir (still can’t believe she didn’t kill me). What if she took Eren instead because of my interference?

So it’s my fault? Naw, Ymir said something about wanting him anyway. Eren’s a prick, but he’s not a complete idiot. He’ll be fine. He’s a good guy, kind of homicidal and has some serious temper issues to sort out, but most the time he’s pretty mellow. Besides Empress would have taken anyone if she so chose, I would have been a better hostage than Eren (being Marco’s pet and all) but Eren makes a bigger impact.

I suppose.

This is stupid.

I’m really thirsty.

Marco said no contact for the next two days. Oh god. How long does it take to die of dehydration? How long for infection to set in? Breathe Jean, it’s okay, he won’t let you go thirsty. Maybe, maybe they’ll wait for you to fall asleep before giving you something?

Okay, yeah. You’re super exhausted right now, try going back to sleep. Must be only a little before midday. Yeah.

I follow those instructions after looking at the rat bite in the orange light. It bled a little and is only as long as my pinky finger nail. That’s one big rat. Fuck rats. Why aren’t the cats doing their fucking job?

Okay. Yeah. Sleep. I am sleeping. Eyes are closed. Yeah, sleep.

It’s not working.

* * *

 

Marco is wearing one of those hanfus that’s a shirt (I don’t know what they call it) and some draw string satin pants, both a soft grey color. He displays frustration, possibly anger.

“You’re stressed.” I say walking to him only in that one red robe he likes so much; I’m not dressed (It’s too damn hot for clothes).

“You would be too if you had an entire crew on your back, making a mess of everything and not caring how the rats devour me. Not to mention trying to out sail Marco’s enemies. Along with Smith and the Empress constantly on our case.” He sighs.

“Should have sank Ymir then.” It comes out serious, I meant it as a joke. Marco doesn’t talk in third person, that’s strange. What’s going on? He must be seriously stressed to be freaking out like this.

“Yeah.”

“You know, I can help… relieve some of that pent up stress. It’s my job after all.” I saddle up next to him, swinging over to sit in his lap. He’s always so surprised when I engage. Don’t know why, it’s the only reason why I’m on this ship to begin with, so why not enjoy it?

Lips brush his jaw, he draws away slightly. Something doesn’t feel right. Marco normally tells me if he’s not in the mood, why is he shying away without a word?

“Something wrong Marco?” I try to approach again, this time he doesn’t move. Lips find and trace his jaw. It’s nice to know that most erogenous places for males are in the same places as females. It made learning to please him so much more simpler.

“No. It’s fine. Everything is fine.” His voice sounds gravely, like he recently gurgled water, and robotic. What the hell? His skin doesn’t feel right, kind of leathery. Must have forgotten to put on lotion before stepping outside again; maybe he’s dehydrated.

Marco’s hands feel cold – even through the robe – as he strokes my sides.

“What do you want, Jean?” he asks firmly, it sends pleasant shivers down my spine. Whoa, that’s new. A quick fuck to be honest. He doesn’t sound all that into, like he’s holding back or something. For some reason his aggression is hot. I’ve always had a thing for strong ladies, what makes my preference for men any different?

Weird, I don’t normally get hard this fast. Did Marco slip something into my drink again? The last time that happened I was hard for _hours_ and all Marco did was laugh between his shitty explanations of ‘I didn’t think that would actually work. Ymir gave me an arousal tea, said it didn’t work well for woman’. He got two days of silence and pretending he didn’t exist for that. It’s all well and good though, he bought me new pencils and a pretty knife (I think I lost the knife).

I don’t remember ever being such a materialistic guy. Guess Marco brings out the greed in me.

“Anything you want _Capitaine_.”

“How about…” his voice gets darker, more guttural with every word. “…you leave my Marco alone!” it ends in a pissed screetch. I’m thrown bodily off his lap. I land with an _oof_ at the end of the bed and am suddenly tangle in sheets.

“What the fuck!?” the Marco I was sitting on turns into some sort of greyish brown humanoid _creature_ thing. I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks human (besides the awful rotten color and obvious malnutrition of some sort) with slimy brown hair that curls at the tips and a well-defined chest; the eyes are a solid wood brown color, no pupil or iris of any kind can be seen. I reckon that if it wasn’t something the deepest pits oceanic hell spit out, it would have been pretty handsome.

Oh god, it’s crawling toward me. It uses its’ clawed hands to pull itself closer to me as I crab scramble away. There’s only so much bed. Did I mention it has a tail? No, I don’t think so, but it does. Oh god, it smells like a sewer.

“What the fuck are you?” screaming only makes it angrier. What the hell did it mean ‘my Marco’ anyway? No way would Marco fuck that.

The bed ends and I ended up falling a lot longer than the distance between bed and floor should dictate. The clawed hand makes a grab for my ankle, but I’m too far. I land on my head.

“Ow! Fuck!” banging my head in real life is so much worse than in a dream. Fuck, Jesus shit that hurt. You would think with all this moister the walls would be softer, but nooo, they’re as hard as the upper decks.

I have the creepiest boner right now.

It’s very humid and sticky down here, and dark. The light has turned an almost red color, must be late evening or something. The smell has increased in its moldy mustiness. Gonna take like five baths after this, gross.

That dream… that creature has appeared in at least three dreams since my sickness. Once during the second half of my sickness, what was it? Two weeks ago? One week ago? A month? I’ve lost sense in time out here in the middle of nowhere. The second time was the day before yesterday and then today.

Well at least I’m not on fire this time…

The need for this dumb ass boner to go away is excruciating, I can’t believe I got hard for that nasty thing. I must be truly desperate for relief to even consider doing that.

Well, as long as I have it, might as well rub it off, not like anyone is going to join or catch me.

My hand is already gripping when the thought of clean up comes to mind. How am I going to clean this up? There’s no water and my hand is going to smell like dick for another day. Maybe I can aim down and- no, that won’t do, it’ll be a mess anyway. If I just not touch and go through my pants??? No, that will just make my pants crusty and I really don’t need a rash on my privates.

Dammit. I’m stuck with an awkward boner and some serious sexual frustration. Seriously feels like I’m thirteen again. Too afraid to touch myself and unable to do a damn thing about it. Ugh. Kill me.

The thought of no water brings to attention how dry and swampy my mouth feels. I can go hungry, it’s not as bad as people think, three or four days of no food is a walk in the park. Three or four days without water however, it’s not so fun. Too bad Marco didn’t give me a water skin, he looked like he might have considered giving me a blanket this morning.

Don’t think about how thirsty you are Jean. It will only make things worse.

Yeah, easier said than done.

Another day won’t kill me.

Okay, think of something else, anything else. Yeah.

Those letters from Marco’s desk are very strange. They get darker in content as the years go on. One particular letter from March of 1777 seemed to speak of a map. It didn’t say what the map was of or where it lead to. There’s lots of meanings for the word map.

But it did say something about it bringing bad luck to those who possess it. The rest of the writing was blurred by water damage or something. It’s hard deciphering the author’s words, many of the words I do not recognize nor can I say for sure that this guy wasn’t crazy as fuck.

Hannah’s ship was in possession of a map. Coincidently that map was said to be cursed.

Wonder if they’re connected? I hope Hannah’s doing well. Franz and her disappeared after Misl-whatever. That one port where Marco went completely bat shit crazy just because I wanted some air and land on my feet.

Haha, I haven’t got my ‘punishment’ in weeks. Maybe the three days I’ll spend in here will make up for that? Is that Marco’s reasoning? Or is it just so I can be out of the way while he fixes and figures everything out?

So many questions.

I have an itch to draw, or write, or something. Just do something with my hands. Maybe I’ll take up carving. It looks simple enough. Bertholdt makes it look real easy. Too bad I’m in exile. And the light is shit.

Sigh, fuck.

Still thirsty. Still hungry. Still in pain. Still sore. At least I’m not sleepy. Still exhausted though.

* * *

 

Day three begins with twenty sit-ups and ten push-ups. It hurts my neck, but then again, everything does. I took off the bandage late last night because it was old and was starting to irritate with the old dried up blood soaked into it. Now it lays in a crumpled heap next to the chamber pot. The rats like to chew on it. I’m surprised they haven’t run off with it for bedding or something.

Also the chamber pot is half full. And smells so bad. Like really bad. With how much everything drops and dips down here I’m in constant fear that it will tip over spilling gross contents all over the already nasty floor.

I wish I had shoes on. But I fucking don’t.

The rat bite feels inflamed and sore all the way up to my heel. With the bite just under the ball of my big toe, it takes a lot of weight when walking, it also touches the ground making risk of infection skyrocket. Tomorrow I’ll be out of here so need to worry about it.

Though I myself have been feeling rather feverish. It’s just really hot down here is all.

There’s a sharp pain that comes shortly after a stomach growl. Yep, there it is, the hunger pains. One more day Jean, just one more day. You’ve done this before, it’s fine.

There’s dizziness with every too fast movement, but once again I connect it to my dehydration, the awful heat, and the hunger.

My neck has a sort of stiffness to it. Possibly because of the thick and almost cement like scabs that have finally formed. Maybe they haven’t really formed yet because under the bandage they become moist, the oily medicinal herbal paste stuff keeps them open and wet too.

Moist. What an awful word. “Humide. Mouillé…Trempé…A-Affaiblir…” words are exhausting. Why is my language so pretty compared to English? English is like, all the languages of the world decided to have one big orgy and created an ungodly love child. How absolutely dreadful.

I sound like an old biddy.

How many hours left? How much daylight? Who will scrape my carcass off the deck floor? Who knows? Who cares? Certainly not Marco at this point. Bertholdt hasn’t even bothered to sneak down here again. Only the sound of occasional grunts, snores, and other bodily noises coming from the guard my only companion. I’ve slept in the men’s sleeping quarters enough times to know that they’re Reiner’s snores and grunts. But who can be sure with so little light and no proper angle to see the entrance?

Marco will make good on his promise. I’m sure. If not, he’ll send someone to come get me.

The waves seemed to have calmed to where there is only gentle bobs and dips. It’s soothing. Relaxing. Hypnotic. Sleep inducing…

I’m itchy all over. I can feel the rats burrow deeper and deeper. It won’t be long before they reach the keel. Not long at all. Marco paces his cabin, he’s so very stressed. I can see the worry lines deepen into wrinkles. Connie and Bertholdt have lowered the mainsail to patch a small hole forming in the very corner. Good boys, taking well care of Marco’s favorite possession. Mikasa sits and sews Armin’s tattered tunic back together as the little blond reads on about nautical nonsense. The crew I somehow know by name and footstep scrub and tighten and lounge around me, tired and ready for a prize. I want to run too, to feel another ship realize they’ve lost. Eren should be fishing off the very back of the poop deck, out of the way and in plain sight. But he’s not, and it’s all Jean’s fault. I suppose he’s useful in some way.

Haha, poop. The trance I’ve slipped into is gone. That’s been happening a lot lately. Somehow I can feel everything that goes on around me. Everything from the new barnacle being born on the starboard stern side of the hull, right under canon number twelve, to Thomas stopping by the privy to let go of Sasha’s heavy beef stew. Seriously, that stuff will stick you on the toilet for a while.

It must be vestiges of shock. The delirious state made by being completely alone and wasting away. It means nothing. Surely. Tomorrow someone will come down for me, I will bathe and eat. I will guilt trip Marco into a massage, get a haircut (it’s poking my eyes in a very irritating manner) and sleep in a real bed for the next century.

The light vanishes like someone blew out a candle. Just a few more hours yet.

* * *

 

It’s midday and there’s still no sign of Marco.

My guard has been gone since very late last night. I heard him get up and leave, he hadn’t come back at all. Everything is so quiet, even the deafening waves are calm.

Perhaps I miscounted the days? It’s hard to tell down here. Maybe some of the time it was just heavy cloud cover that looked like night. We are headed into monsoon areas and isn’t it that time of year? It’s late June correct? No I’m thinking like a northerner. The seasons switch down here. Um, what did Bertholdt say about that? That…that it doesn’t feel like winter even though it is? It’s dryer, tamer. These months are the best for sail, he said. The trade route winds are near perfect from April to November.

Then, where is Marco?

He’s busy. That’s all.

It’s awfully hot. The pains stopped a few hours ago, though my foot is swollen and it hurts greatly when toes are moved. My neck feels stiff as ever and smarts at certain head movements. My face feels like a bruise. Muscles are cramped and I’m too malnourished and in pain to begin those exercises again. Everything carries a deep haze, like a mirage in the desert.

I don’t remember ending up on the floor.

I hope the rats don’t eat me. Or the chamber pot falls.

The light is almost out by the time I hear light footsteps. They’re small and soft, like they’re sneaking. There’s an authoritative voice I vaguely recognize but I’m too out of it to put two and two together.

“You smell like shit brat.” The voice says. “Can you get up?”

I try, but weight on my foot hurts too much.

“Rat bite huh?” I feel a small calloused hand bend and examine the wounded foot. I feel leakage. “Eh, it’s not bad. Little pusy, but it just needs washing.” I just grunt. I haven’t opened my eyes. “Fucking idiot. Should have given you some water. That neck of yours is perfectly fine considering.”

Swell. Can I get out of here now?

“Alright-” Whatever else is said is drowned out by hurried, clumsy steps coming our way.

“Oh goodness! I completely forgot! With all that’s happened today! Is he alright?” the high voice prattles on. I’m being lifted too fast and I feel the urge to vomit.

Everything is in flashes of pain and delirium.

Next thing I know I’m being tucked in bed by frenzied hands and nonstop apologies. This is the most comfortable bed in existence. Oh god yes. Take me now.

“Shut up brat. He’s perfectly fine. He only needs rest and water. Christ, sit down and resume your captain duties.” That man – Levi, it’s Levi – says in an irritated fashion.

Sleep now, guilt trip Marco later.

Excellent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickens.
> 
> Next chapter Marco observes the forgotten map. Finally speaks comes to conclusion with his mistresses. and some other conclusions that are still vague concepts.
> 
> (I am two chapters behind on the side stories. I still want to do Levi's pov on the night jeanmarco had sex, and of course third person eren on Ymir's ship)


	26. Meanwhile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Port Darwin???????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls. keep in mind that this isn't historically accurate. lmao. research is hard.
> 
> This chapter is at least 1,000 words longer than normal. also be warned that I tried out a Levi third person POV in the end!

Somehow, we’ve managed to follow the Australian coast. Which is good, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we are. It’s just that I didn’t authorize it and _I didn’t know we were this close to land_. Why doesn't anyone tell me these things anymore? Anyway we just passed the Carter Isles and have been in the Timor Sea for a day or two. I guess.

This is all so frustrating.

I feel like punching something.

Hey look there’s Armin.

Not that I would punch Armin. Absolutely not, he just happened to be in sight during the mood.

“Armin!” I call. He turns toward me as I wave him over.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk about navigation. I’ve been out of the loop too long, my injury shouldn’t be an excuse not to know where my beloved vessel is heading.” I’m enthusiastic today. Like my old self again. Armin’s weariness disappears, replace with brightness in his eyes. He's immensely adorable.

“Of course. There’s a port near… Tiwi Island. Just South of it. I think it’s called the Port of Darwin? It’s a good place to stop I think.” Armin casually says. “Are we meeting in your room?”

“We can, why?”

“I need to use the pot.”

“Okay.” Armin leaves me while I head for my room.

Since talking with Jean early this morning, I’ve been feeling a lot better. When Ymir comes back for her money, I think I might have the courage to confront her. If what Mikasa said was true, that they’ve changed, and what my gut feelings about are true; then maybe we can patch things up. The gut feeling is perhaps they thought my tears were a good sign. Jean did say something about ‘begging to stop but not really wanting to’. Was that true for them? I…I never used the safe words (most times I forgot they were a thing). If I somehow I remembered them, they stopped immediately.

Their change may be of the fact that _forcing_ a pet to do sexual things is not the way to go. Never have I done such a horrid thing, and though they never lasted long, there was no fear. In some strange way, I do have affections for the Ladies. They were kind in the best of times and when someone was especially rude, Krista would put an end to it. Wish they did that when the Hunt was in play.

My desk is a mess as usual. There’s so many different maps of different authors and languages and places, it’s a wonder why I haven’t just thrown them out. There’s one so old the western continents aren’t even on it. I wonder if there’s a collector for old maps. Will they buy it from me; at what price?

Where was I? Oh, yes. Finding, I don’t know. Solace? Closure? Yeah, closure sounds like the proper word for moving on. I deserve that much. To hear their side, however horrifying, may help me understand how they could possibly think I was happy. Sure in the beginning things were a bit scary, but it was fun and pleasant. I learned so many things. How to sail, sex, navigation, better English, some small bits of Hindu, some phrases in Urdu, a word or two in Japanese, Vietnamese too, and so much more for instance.

Toward the middle I began thinking of home, did my brother make it home safely? How are mom and dad fairing on the farm without me? They never let me off the ship alone. Always constant watch of every waking hour. It was creepy but fine.

The end was when the trauma started. The beatings… felt desperate. The urgency to _leave_ , to _go home_ so strong I tried with a broken finger (completely unrelated to the abuse. I was helping out on deck and a heavy crate fell of my finger). Even with the consequence of someone “borrowing” me for the night. I tried and in the end failed again and again till I convinced myself that it didn’t matter.

Krista seemed so heart broken when I gave up. Maybe they really didn’t-

I don’t recognize this map… shuffling a few papers away I pick up the old map. Wait… this is the map Hannah’s father had tucked away. It didn’t look so old when I first saw it (of course it was only a quick glance).

It’s frayed around the edges, one corer is torn clean off taking some of the intricate artwork of the compass rose. The lands vary in light tans and soft greens. The ocean has a soft blue you can only see during the early morning. The wording in a strange language, once a bold black, now a dark grey. The letterings are in cursive and tightly packed. I can’t read any of it. I have such a hard time reading hand written things like this.

“La mort… what?” Isn’t that… Spanish? Do anyone I know speak Spanish? Spanish is similar to Italian right? Maybe Levi can read it.

Hmmm…

Sasha barges in and slams some food on the table. She’s angry she can’t feed Jean. Probably. The food is burgoo, guess I don’t deserve a Captain’s dinner. Whatever, she can throw her fit but Jean deserves it. He was so out of turn. Ymir would have taken Bertholdt and given him back the next time she came. A hostage so to speak. She’s done it before. Don’t know why I made such a big deal out of it this time.

Armin doesn’t comment on the meager bowl I’m eating. He only raises a dark yellow brow and searches my desk for a more current map.

“Is there such thing as a map collector?” I ask him.

“Maybe? If there’s a thing, there’s a collector. I guess.” Armin’s says with a shrug. “If your room says anything, I’d say you are.”

“…” I never thought I’d be the collector. I guess I can be. I mean I’m kind of attached to one of early Rome. New project for tonight to combat the loneliness of an empty bed! That sounded so sad.

“So, to business?”

I nod and we sit together, huddling over a map made only a few years prior.

“So…” Armin speaks after a bout of silence brought on by the indecision on whether or not it’s worth raiding Darwin. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” the map has blurred into a greying-white blur crisscrossed with stark black lines with how hard I’m staring at it. I’ve never raided a town, not in full scale at least. A few thefts in the harbor. How do other pirates do it? Do they raid every house? What does this town even look like? I don’t remember ever being there. Perhaps it’s new?

“Are you feeling better, from yesterday?”

“…I suppose. I’m still jittery. But I’ve given myself a plan, Jean is being properly punished- don’t look at me like that. Not once has Jean been respectful toward me, he deserves what he’s got.” Armin’s lips don’t turn back up from his disapproving frown.

“So no unwanted fits then?” Armin asks. I don’t like his tone.

“I can’t help my anxiety Mr. Arlet. But no more fits. At least for now, can’t say I won’t have any when the Ladies return.” I tell him, a little testy myself. Why must everything I do someone’s got to be unsatisfied?

“That’s good to hear. Really Marco. You were such a mess yesterday.” He says gently, more like a friend.

“Thank you.”

There’s another awkward bout of silence interrupted by the occasional shuffle of person or paper. I feel as if I should say something, but I don’t know what.

Darwin…Darwin… is it worth it? The currents we’re being pulled in are slow, we’ll be near Tiwi tomorrow? Maybe? My chest is starting to itch again. Why does healing have to itch? Staring at the map isn’t going to give me the answer. All it’s doing now is blurring images together forming one super continent.

I almost ask Armin if he’s ever been, but realize that’s stupid. He looks at me expectant, but no words come out. A shake of the head has him pulling brows together in confusion. He appears to want to say something as well. Nothing is said.

“We’re almost out of fresh water. Sasha said something about the rats spoiling what’s left of the vegetables. Eren’s medical supplies in the laceration department are almost empty. We need to make a stop soon.” Armin finally says.

“We’ll stop at Darwin, see what they got… maybe raid them? Can we do that?” at this point I’m barely listening, speaking out loud just to hear if it even sounds good.

The rats… we need to put down some poison… the brig is absolutely covered in them, I see a rodents in every dark corner. Little teeth marks on almost everything. How far have they carved into my ship? I feel a sudden onslaught of anxiousness. I put Jean down there. What if they eat him alive? Rats do that don’t they? Oh man, what if come down there and all there’s left is bones. Psh, no, that can’t happen. Reiner would answer the screams and get Jean out of there. I did tell him his safety is priority… didn’t I?

“Raid?” Armin stares at the map with me tapping his chin. “I suppose we could, but I thought we didn’t have any gun powder, or enough weapons.”

“Enough for a hit and run. Possibly.”

“Maybe we can stop for essentials, then round the Tiwi island and attack if it’s worth it…”

“That…” I still don’t know. Can we do this in two days? I really wouldn’t want to do this with Jean in a rage. “Let’s do it.” Screw it. I’m desperate for something exciting.

* * *

 

The room is lonely without Jean. There’s no sound but my own breathing and the normal voices of the shifting ship and ocean. I’ve gotten so use to a _presence_ that with it gone it’s deeply unsettling. Even if Jean decided I’m too much of a bother and goes off somewhere else – to be with his friends or even sleep with the crew – he usually comes in and tells me in some way.

It’s late. By any chance, midnight. I can’t be sure with the lantern light not reaching the clock (which I’m sure is off by several minutes). There’s a need to do something. Like a hobby. But I don’t have one besides reading. Reading… I can’t do that right now. There’s too much distraction (even though there’s nothing here to distract me). Moreover, it takes me forever to read English.

Jean had his hobbies. His art; his French romance novels (from his occasional snicker I assume they’re _bad_ romance novels); and his newest hobby of the mysterious letters. What do I have as a hobby? Him. Writing in the log book I suppose. A diary for a ship isn’t much of a hobby. Reading, but I really can’t seem to focus on anything. Already established the reading didn’t I?

Sleep alludes me. There’s too much of a bother to my wounds; the deep jitter beneath my skin doesn’t help. The need to keep moving, eating, to do something, anything. To stay in motion. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t recall ever being this restless.

I could get drunk again.

I can start the raiding plans. Do some research on how the hell I’m supposed to do that. It can’t be that hard right? Just send a convoy, they can survey the area and then-

The map catches my eye again. I don’t recognize hardly any of these islands. Some look similar to the Caribbean islands, but the larger drawing of land in the far bottom left corner looks to be Japan. Maybe the map is upside down? It could be Cuba. The Pacific is the least explored ocean…

But as far as I know, no westerner has really traveled the Pacific quite as well as the Atlantic. Even the Arctic waters are more explored.

Shuffling papers around I start comparing maps, trying to find similarities between them, hoping to figure out where this map leads to. It doesn’t seemed finished, or maybe there’s more parts to it. I wish I had a Spanish speaker I can trust.

The more I stare, the more it doesn’t look like Spanish.

And so ends day two of Jean’s confinement and me alone, face plastered to the desk in sleep. Just tomorrow and the next. After that, Jean will be in my bed once more

* * *

 

Waking up to the slammed door, a kink in the neck, and ink all over my face, is not an ideal way to wake up. The sun is already climbing its way up from the horizon, the clock says it’s one minute before midnight. The second hand no longer moves. Lovely. There’s got to be a metaphor in there somewhere.

Scarce food sits on the table, a simple bowl of rice with what looks like a bowl of soy sauce? Really Sasha? Starving me isn’t going to change my mind. I’ve gone hungry before (granted it’s been since the winter before I was kidnapped by Ymir). If I could handle it then, then I can handle it now.

I wonder if Chang gives massages. I could honestly use one. Jean has such strong and long fingers that get real deep into tissue, gods that sounds fantastic. I’m going to have to buy him the world for him to even look at me again.

The day passes without much remembrance.

* * *

 

The days pass by sluggishly. I spend most of the time pacing my room figuring out plans and tiding up. My room has never been cleaner, I refuse to touch Jeans mess though. Not only do I feel that it would invade what little privacy he has, I just can’t bring myself to think of him lately. (I’m so frustrated not only sexually, but bodily, mentally, and emotionally as well).

Finally in the post-dawn light on the last day of Jean’s confinement, we reach Port Darwin.

The port is clean. Too clean for it to be as busy as it is. There are ships in every dock. It’s silent. Too silent for a busy dock. There’s a few stray cats yowling and some strangers walking down the cobble stoned road.

“Levi, take a long boat and get our supplies legally please.” I hand him the last of our cash. “Take a few crew members and scope this place out while you’re at it.”

Levi nods slipping the bundle of cash into his vest.

There’s a buzz of excitement traveling through the crew. A prize? There is many groups talking in hushed tones, they’re excited and weary. Perhaps we should wait till a ship leaves and attack that one?

That’s not a bad idea. I’ll wait for Levi to make a solid decision.

Levi doesn’t make it back till the sun is at its highest. The long boat he captains is weighed down heavily. Some sea water laps in with every too big swell. Levi and the man helping him row are the only two aboard.

“Where are the others?” I ask as they bump the hulls together. Connie throws over some pulleys bring up the boat, much easier than unloading the cargo from here.

Levi looks up, squinting against the sun, “Scouting. There’s some kind of celebration going on, the place is nearly vacant. Most this ships are military supply schooners.” I grab his fore arm and help him over the railing. I lean over again to help the second man. The second man goes to help Connie pull the heavy load up.

Military supply schooners?

“How many people are attending to duties?”

“Seems like just the midshipmen and the drunk. The ships are damned near abandoned. I’ve sent the men that came with me to find the best ship to rob. Find some last minute things. Scouting.” Levi answers. Levi briefly sweeps his eyes around. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

What? “…No?” that’s going to be bothering me all day now. Am I missing something? “All right, once your men report back. We’ll…do…something… depends on their report. In the meantime, let’s sail a little closer.”

Thomas wheels the helm around and we slowly glide into the harbor. “Turn it about Mr. Wagner and drop anchor.”

Thomas nods and we once again turn, this time in a tight half-circle so the bow points out of the harbor. Better to escape that way. With a loud splash, the anchor drops. Wonder when high tide happens here… probably not till late in the day.

The sun is three quarters done with the day by the time another boat rows back. Bertholdt is on this one. He crawls up after the other rower without assistance.

“I think we can take this town. Everyone is drunk. Even the guards on the ships. Ravi found a ship that carries surplus weapons, we can steal that one and take the weapons. Then perhaps sell the ship.” Bertholdt is clammy, whether it’s from sweating or the sea spray I can’t tell.

“Which ship is it?”

“The little… um, schoo-schooner, named _Melody._ ” Bertholdt says having trouble with the English. “She’s close to us, the one with the orange strip on the belly.” He points and I follow his finger.

There is a small ship, about half the size of mine maybe bigger. She’s not meant for battle that’s for sure, _Melody_ looks to be a racer. Makes sense if it’s a supply ship, especially in times of war, you’d want something small and fast.

“You got on board?”

“Was not hard. The watchman was sleeping. It has good wood. The cargo is locked but we- me and Ravi see many cannons and crates with words painted on them. We can’t read, so we don’t know what they say.” Bertholdt reports.

“Levi, do you think you can lead a team to capture it?” I ask him.

Levi is quiet for a few minutes. “I suppose. If anything bad happens at least I’ll have a ship.”

“Where’s the rest of the men?” I ask Bertholdt.

He shrugs.

“Take Connie and grab the last of our bombs. Place them in the town away from the harbor and light them. It should create a big enough distraction for us to raid some of these ships and blast the docks. There should be enough chaos for Levi to slip our prize safely out of the harbor and into open seas. With much luck, we might actually make money today.” Connie snickers. There’s a buzz of excitement going around. “Find the men still ashore and get them to help you. The first bomb will be our signal to start the shooting and raiding. Get back here as fast as possible, even board the  _Melody_ if you can’t make it home.” I finish.

“Place the bombs, light them, run like hell, help with raids, get on a ship, and we leave?” Connie clarifies.

“Precisely. Good luck and be careful!” I shout to them as they re-board their row boat. The long boat is being dumped of its cargo so Levi can take twenty-five more men to take our prize.

“We’ll prepare the ship and get rid of any unwanted, we’ll leave at the first canon fire.” Levi informs me. I nod, that’s what I said wasn’t it? “Any particular place we should meet up if separated?”

“Sarong. We call sell the ship there.” It was one of the original ports. Eren will be there, if he escapes that is.

“Very well.” With that Levi jumps on the long boat.

“Turn her about Mr. Wagner. Show Darwin our guns. _The rest of you, get ready for fight_!”

The plan goes off without a hitch.

Which is extremely suspicious in my humble opinion.

Large clouds of fire and dust explode in three different directions a few seconds apart. Not a minute goes by when _Liúlàng zhě_ rocks back with the force of our canon fire.

“ _Reload, hit them again_!” through the dust and flying debris I spot Connie make a jump for the _Meldoy_. While Bertholdt jumps onto a different ship and goes down below. What? Several of the men are breaking into homes and causing all types of fuss.

The dust settles and debris stop flying. There are screams, but no one comes running, yet.

“ _Ready!_ ” a man at Gun One calls.

“ _Steady!_ ” I answer him. There, men in military garb are coming. “ _Fire!_ ”

Levi gives a signal as the  _Melody_  snail paces its way out of the harbor. Bertholdt comes out from the hull of the other ship with something in his hands along with several other people caring similar objects.

Everything else just falls into place. The rest of my crew rows furiously back home, and we set sail as fast as the incoming tide will allow.

That was way too easy to be comforting.

We have weapons, gold (so much gold! The ship Bertholdt went in had three small safes full!) and all the medical and food stores we could need for several months. (Unless something goes horribly wrong).

Just wish I could knock off this feeling that I forgot something…

* * *

 

Levi tromps down the stairs loudly. Reiner isn’t at his post, the chair has been tipped over. Levi rights the chair without comment, figuring the kid just went to the privy.

Count on Marco to forget something important when he’s high on adrenalin. _‘That kid better not be dead’_. Levi thinks to himself. The last thing he wants is to scrape some nasty carcass off the already filthy floor. _Again_.

At first glance the cell is empty. _‘He was placed in the first one, right?’_ Levi steps closer. The smell wafting not only from the cell, but from all around him, is sour and rotten. Like molding wood and vomit with a hint of urine undertones. It takes a lifetime in the streets not to gag outright. Rats squeal and scurry away from his presence. He’s lost count of the rats Monello has brought him, yet there are always dozens more.

But at least he hasn’t seen a rat in his living quarters any more. Even the mess and the kitchen are rat free. The Pantry still sees the occasional rat, but it quickly scared off by Maggie. What Filou does Levi cannot guess, he rarely sees the tawny fur ball.

A pitiful self-loathing moan brings his steel grey eyes to the floor where Jean lays in a crumpled heap.

Jean is barely conscious. Levi knows dehydration and exhaustion when he sees Jean’s pale complexion and chapped lips. He crouches down so he can see him better, Jean’s breathing is slow and deliberate. His injuries have not become infected, but they do show signs of irritation. Count on Marco to forget something important when he’s mad.

Levi sighs and walks back to the entrance where he saw a ring of keys hanging.

“You smell like shit brat.” He says searching for the right key to the cell. “Can you get up?”

Jean makes another self-loathing moan and tries to stand. He gets as far as pressing a swollen foot on the floor to prepare to stand before collapsing in a whimper of pain. Levi hadn't noticed the swollen foot till now.

Levi sighs and opens the door. “Rat bite huh?” he gently lifts Jean’s foot to inspect the damage. Not as bad as it could have been. Levi makes the mistake of prodding the boil like wound. It breaks with a sound Levi never wants to hear again and leaks some pink colored blood and white pus. “Eh, it’s not bad. Little pusy, but it just needs washing.”

Jean grunts something Levi doesn’t catch. “Fucking idiot. Should have given you some water. That neck of yours is perfectly fine considering.” Jean grunts again. Levi prepares to sit Jean up. He wishes he brought some water with him, it might give the exhausted human pet some motivation to move. “Alright-” he’s interrupted my hurried stomps down the creaky stairs.

“Oh goodness! I completely forgot! With all that’s happened today! Is he alright?” Marco nearly slams into the bars he’s coming down the stairs so fast. Without any preamble, Captain Bodt lifts Jean princess style and rushes back upstairs.

Levi has no choice but to follow.

* * *

 

We hurry to my room. Jean makes not a sound in my arms as I gallop. That foot looked really bad, but Levi assures me it isn’t. How can I know? How does he know?

It’s not till we approach the door that I remember the locked door. “Shit.” I hiss and hand Levi Jean like one would pass on a sack of potatoes. Well, he’s as dirty as one. How does one get so filthy just sitting on a bench? Levi grunts a curse word or two as I dig into my pockets to find the key.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time to find the right key. When it's found I fling it open and Levi struts in (as best he can with someone at least a head taller than him) and lifts him to settle- wait not there!

“No! Not on my bed, he’s filthy!” I yell at Levi who was about to put grimy passed out Jean on my nice clean bed. One of the kitchen girls just put on new sheets.

Levi grunts in annoyance and places him on the rug at the end of the bed. (I had to move the table to make room).

Jean has greasy dirt streaks all over himself and his clothes. His neck is clean for the most part. An ugly scab that has some rather garish blood drippings staining his white neck and shirt. Behind the grime I can see a dark bruise taking over half is face. My heart leaps into my throat. I did that? That’s… terrible.

Jean mumbles something about heaven and lapses into some sort of French gibberish. He’s shallow in appearance. A few days without substance will do that. He looks more like when I first met him, nothing more than skin and bones.

Levi comes back (I hadn’t realized he left) with a bucket of water and some ragged sheets that he hands me to tear into strips. (No need to waste real bandages when they’ll be off as soon as he eats and bathes). Levi dips an old towel into the water to wash his neck first.

“But his foot.”

“It’s fine. Just a minor infection. That rat bite needs a good cleaning is all.” Levi says dismissively.

“I wish he would have told me about it! Ugh! I should have questioned why he favored his other foot.” Tearing sheets is a good way to keep me from wringing my hands dry. “Infection takes two days to set in.” I should have made sure he had a new bandage before locking him up. I should have given him a water skin. “Why are those cells so unclean? You’re in charge of-of that.”

“Don’t toss your blame on me. We haven’t had any time nor the extra hands to clean down there. Having a hundred people down there for several weeks makes things get nasty.” Levi finishes with Jean’s neck and moves to his swollen foot. Jean whimpers like a child and curls at Levi’s cleaning.

“Sorry.” Jean’s neck seeps blood. Not much, more like a cat scratch. Instead of wrapping his neck, I just loosely fold the sheet strips and press them there then use a long strip to tie it in place.

“That raid was a gamble. We’re lucky those military dogs were in town whoring and drinking. We have more than enough weapons and supplies to take down the Empress herself. Nearly an entire armadas worth of steel, yet next to no casualties on our side. This is far too convenient for my tastes.” Levi says conversationally.

“I agree. Do you think Erwin had anything to do with it?” I’ve given myself the task of washing Jean’s sweating face.

“I have no doubt. It’s been enough time for him to receive that letter. I might have seen his ship on the horizon…” Levi laps into silence. I have to pin Jean’s legs down for he keeps trying to kick Levi. “How could he have known we’d stop there and raid? Did anyone mention this to you beforehand?”

“…No. I don’t think I heard anyone talk about pillaging a town. It’s not my style… this is the first time I’ve ever done it. Never thought it a point till now… at first I just wanted to swing in to see things. Then, maybe if it wasn’t too much of a risk, go for it.” I tell him. Honestly, seeing all those navy and marine ships had me scared half to death. It’s amazing we only lost one man.

“Erwin must be desperate to get rid of Kit.” Levi finished bandaging Jean’s foot. There’s a generous pile of yellow and white pus on the towel. Pink and dark red blood stain the fabric. That’s nasty. “I stuck some of that green shit on that wound. Chang likes it and he’s the only one us who’s been to college so… I trust his judgement on these matters.” He says in parting.

“Okay. Thank you for checking on him. I really had forgotten and- why wasn’t Reiner at his post?”

“Ask him. Maybe he went to take a shit.” Levi leaves, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Jean wakes up with no ill will toward Marco! Marco is very nervous as he sells the extra ship and talks to the ladies! The map is mentioned and Jean reveals the language of the map, and Kitt attacks!!!
> 
> check out the side stories guys! titled: Ocean's Away Side Stories.


	27. Disgruntled Peacock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean wakes up.
> 
> Isn't really feeling himself.
> 
> What to do wit that ship?
> 
> A pretty present.
> 
> Argument.
> 
> Attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happen in this chapter. A lot of things that were going to go into side chapters but I just kept typing and they came out.

Waking up to Marco’s terribly worried face and a dripping wet rag on my forehead is starting to get old. Throwing the rag at his face I sit up. There’s a wooziness there. Probably dehydration and hunger. No big deal.

“Here.” Marco clasps my hands around a glass of water. Hell yeah. God this is the best water I’ve ever had. Fuck yeah.

Marco’s fidgeting, my foot hurts. He looks like he wants to say something but is holding back.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your foot Jean? It was leaking really nasty stuff! It still is!” Marco blurts.

“Honestly, I completely forgot. It didn’t hurt then, it was like a little pinch.” I shrug. “I’m hungry.”

“Sasha will be bringing breakfast soon.” Marco says, “You had a fever Jean! Again! It only lasted a few hours and the swelling has gone down… a lot, how could you forget!?” he goes back to his worry-wart stage, having to pause in the middle of his ranting to think of the word, I suppose.

“It’s _fine_ , so it got infected, it’s better now, I can hardly feel it.” Lies, I feel it, but it’s only a slight inconvenience. It will probably be a bitch to walk on though.

“Fine?! It gave you a fever!”

“So does Sasha’s beef stew.” Puts me on the pot for hours too. “You’re the one who left me down there in squalor. _Without_ any water.”

Marco makes a pained noise. “Sorry. I was going to bring you a blanket, and maybe a water skin, but I had to plan for a raid. Sorry for leaving you down there longer than attended, everything got so busy that day I just…forgot.”

“Raid?” I don’t remember hearing anything like a raid.

“Yes, it’s all very suspicious how we got out of there with only one fatality and-” there’s harsh knocking on the door. “Come in Sasha.”

“Why the fuck am I on the floor?” why did it take me so long to notice?

“You are much too filthy to be on any of our beds.” Marco states. Sasha smiles sweetly at me and glares at Marco, she sets the tray of food on the floor next to us. I’m truly insulted, I can’t be _that_ filthy.

“Eat lightly Jeanbo, your stomach must have shrank, don’t go for the heavy foods first alright, wait a couple of days.” She says, she completely ignores Marco.

I cringe at the name, the only person to call me that was mother (and maybe some nosy relatives). “I’ve starved before, I know what to do. And who told you about that name?”

She shrugs. “Eren. Maybe Mikasa? You know, now that I think about it, it might have been Armin.”

She leaves with my snort chasing her back. Marco smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

“Jeanbo huh?”

“Don’t you fucking dare. I will murder you. The only person allowed to call me that is dead.” Marco’s smile vanishes.

“Sorry.” He picks up a bowl of rice and hands it to me. “Mom called me Quèbān. It’s freckles, she stopped calling me that when my brother was born, he has more than me.”

After some silence of us both eating Marco starts his tale of the raid that happened two days ago. By the end of it the food is gone and I’ve gulped probably a gallon of water.

“Let’s go take a bath, you need proper dressings. I need a change too.” Marco says helping me up. Putting weight on my foot isn’t as bad as I had originally thought.

“Is Eren back yet?”

“No… but Ymir is basically holding him for ransom, so he’ll be back in a week. I still need to sell that ship, then we’ll have enough money to pay her.” Marco chews his lip. “Armin said he’d have escaped by now. I’m worried about him.”

“Maybe he decided to stay. Where would he go? The fucking ocean? He’s in the same dilemma I was.” I’m limping a lot harder than I want to. Ugh this is embarrassing. I’d rather limp for being plowed into the mattress than from something so stupid as a rat bite. At least with my ass hurting I got some decent pay out.

“So… you’re not mad… at me, for locking you up?” Marco asks tentatively.

“I feel like I should be.” None of the tubs are filled, so we have to wait for the hot water to boil. “There’s no point, I mean, I did shoot Ymir.”

Marco laughs uncomfortably. “Yeah you did. I’ll have to hide you so she don’t kill you. If she won’t Krista might.”

Krista kill somebody??? No. Impossible. She’s an angel. A goddess. No way would she kill a human being. She wouldn’t even hurt a gnat.

Levi comes in with a steaming bucket, _“So you’re finally awake Jean? How’s the foot?”_ he says in French. It’s a great comfort to hear, I can’t help but smile at the graceful syllables.

_“It smarts.”_

_“I wondered how long it would have taken for your foot to have rotted off?”_ he muses out loud. He disappears for another bucket of steaming water. The one he’s filling could fit three people.

 _“That’s not funny. But I’m glad I’m out. Was feeling possessed down there. Like I had no control of my body. Saw…things. I don’t want to remember that feeling. That feeling of floating outside your body as something else resides inside.”_ Marco has sensed my distress and rubs my arms asking me if I’m alright. “It’s nothing.”

Levi comes back with two large buckets this time. _“This ship has a mind of its own. And only it thinks of its captain.”_

“What does that mean?” English this time. Marco breathes a little heavier at the word captain. _God_ Marco, don’t get an erection _now_.

“Never mind. Thought you understood that. That should be enough water. There’s more boiling in the next room if you want more. It’s late, I’m going to bed. Don’t bother me.” Levi dismisses himself as well as the conversation.

The promise of a good back rub and clean clothes and more food and water washes away any curiosity I had about that puzzling riddle Levi spoke of.

* * *

 

“Christ Marco, I’m not an invalid. I can walk just fine!”

He snorts pushing me into bed. “Not with that foot. Until you walk without a limp, you stay off it.” It’s too exhausting to argue with him, so I elect to ignore him. “There’s a port on the horizon where I might be able to sell the ship.” He says.

“Why not just keep it? Give Reiner or Levi or Mikasa captain status. It’s a pretty boat.” It really is, all dark wood, two masted, skinny. Built for speed that one is. The sails bleached white, all the rope still smooth and the metal still shinny. A schooner I think it’s called. It must be brand new.

“Oh I wish. She’s beautiful, but I need the money and I don’t really have enough followers to start a fleet. Besides, who needs a fleet? I’m perfectly happy with the one I have now.”

“Still think it’s a waste. You stole it fair and square, it’s probably just going to end up back in the hands of the British. It has such a pretty name too, _Melody_. _Mélodie_. _Xuánlǜ.._?” that sounded atrocious. Really need to work on my Chinese.

“Yes, that’s it.” Marco confirms. “Well, how about I get you something as pretty as that ship to make up for it, hm? We’ll anchor here so we have time to repaint and change a few things. Make it not look like we just stole it.”

“Keep the name.” I request.

“Alright. What color should it be?”

“Turquoise. The blue kind of turquoise. I think we have that in stock, don’t we?” Marco shrugs, “Turquoise is a good color for such a name.”

“Do you sing Jean?”

“No. I can, but I don’t.” I snort. Don’t know why that’s relevant. “My Aunt did though. She taught me ballet, she’s the reason I know English and I don’t get sick when out at sea. She owned a traveling ballet troupe, I would sometimes go with her when she wanted to spend time with her ‘favorite nephew’. I was her only nephew. She loved England. And Spain. The Spanish girls are very pretty.”

“Don’t I know it.” Marco agrees. “Is she… departed?” Marco’s trying to be sensitive.

“I don’t know. She disappeared. No letters, no word. That was shortly before the plague reached France, she was in Germany when the letters stopped coming I believe.” I miss Aunt Joan. I was almost named after her, but my grandmother thought ill of naming someone after the living. Said it was a bad omen.

“I have so many aunts I can hardly keep track of them, but I only had two uncles. They’re long gone though, some type of heart attack took them.” Marco smiles and shrugs. He climbs into bed to lay beside me.

“Marco? How long do you think we’ll be healed?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I really want to have sex again. Real sex. Been having those urges. Maybe humans have mating seasons like cats and we just think we’re so much better than the animals that we don’t realize it.” I sigh. I usually feel more sexually deprived and desperate during the summer months.

“Maybe. But then how come no one else goes into a rutting?”

“Maybe it’s different for each person, and you have to find the person who’s rut matches yours.” I take off my shirt, it’s much too hot for one. Marco follows the motion.

“Lucky for you, I’ve been feeling some strong urges too.” His hands caress my chest and he nibbles my ear. He won’t, we won’t. Neither of us want a repeat of his birthday. I’m still feeling the twinge of ghostly pain. Better to wait till we stop bleeding every time we move too much.

Knocking on the door makes Marco jump.

“ _Y-yes_?”

“Wǒmen xūyào nǐ zài jiǎbǎn shàng, xiānshēng.” A gruff man says. I only caught some of it, something about ‘need’ and ‘on deck’.

Marco sighs and gets up off the bed. “I better go. Clean up your mess.” He gestures to my so-called mess across the room. It’s then I notice how clean the room is.

He leaves. It’s not till he’s out of my sight do I realize I was starting at his ass. Well. Never thought _that_ would happen.

It’s strange really, I didn’t hear any canon fire from the cell. Was I really so out of it that I couldn’t even feel the ship rock with the force of gun power? How could I have not heard the shouts and screams of men in a frenzy? Well, Marco did say I had a fever and my aching foot is a testament to what a tiny infected wound can do to a body.

Levi made me do my own bandages so I got a good look of both my inflictions.

My neck looks like a sideways lightning bolt, with a trunk and a few branches veering off. No doubt from how that idiot Shang kept dancing the knife around like some sort of puppet with a string or two cut. It’s a dark red line. The smaller superficial cuts have already scabbed over completely while the main stem were Shang tried to slit my throat before he went down (if I hadn’t twisted away he would have reached an artery) has been having trouble keeping a scab. It rips open constantly and I feel it every time. Like someone pulling out tiny hairs.

My foot on the other hand has already scabbed over. It’s a delicate scab, a boil like scab. Or a scab over a burn. It’s a lot bigger than when I first saw it. The infection having eaten away at the edges of the wound till it became a gaping hole instead of a fine line. It seeps much the way my neck does. But it seeps more than blood. Puss and water and whatever else comes out of an infection. The puss isn’t yellow anymore though, a cream white now. Having a wound at the beginning of the instep right under the ball of my big toe side is one of the most inconvenient places. A lot of weight gets place there.

But no matter. It’ll heal in time. My foot probably won’t even scar. But who cares? A foot scar is a million times easier to hide, to ignore than a neck wound. How many questions am I going to get? Who did I piss off? Who wanted to off me? Are you okay? Did it hurt? It’s so ghastly!

The tears fall before I have the mind to stop them. I still have nightmares of that night. What if Sasha had been captured? What if Levi hadn’t escaped his own assassination? What if Shang made good on his promise to have me like he thought Marco had me? What if Shang had slipped or changed his mind about keeping me alive? What if had slit my throat when he snuck in that night? It didn’t happened, of course it didn’t. But I dream it almost every night.

Marco tries his best to console me. He never asks what I dream of. Probably because he’s had his own fair share of night terrors.

Then there are nights where I don’t see Shang coming at me through the darkness; but my mother lying there in orange light. She smiles and mouths something and the flames come up and she’s nothing but charred bones and I’m next. There’s days where I flinch from Reiner’s touch, even Marco’s. There’s times when I can’t look at anyone because of who I killed. My own mother. Three innocent people only following orders. A man with a sick fantasy. A power hungry mongrel. There will be more I know.

 _Crying about it isn’t going to change a damn thing Jeanbo_. I can hear my father saying. _Go on cry all you want, let it out. But will it do anything? Non! Get up silly boy. Do your chores. Move on_. Mama slapped him upside the head for talking to me like that. It was the night of my sister’s funeral. The church wouldn’t burry her being the way she died. But mom knew some people and they dug a grave and got her a nice pine box for her to lie in, a stone mason offered his condolences with a tombstone. It was a nice affair I suppose.

But he was right. Crying wasn’t going to bring back my sister. It won’t bring back my parents, nor the men I’ve taken. It won’t change the fact that I’ll be disfigured. Doesn’t change that one day Marco will get rid of me. One day I’ll be nothing but faded memory and probably fish food.

Master Chang said something about leaving. Marco didn’t say anything about it. Being that Eren is still learning and we still need an actual doctor, Marco won’t allow it. Probably.

Sighing I get up. If I’m going to be confined in here for lord knows how long again, might as well do my chores. Whatever. _Chores_. The only chore I have is fucking Marco’s brains out. But being that neither of us can move without pain, I’ve been laid off a job.

I never did finish that sketch. Maybe I should refine the details.

* * *

 

_Riip._

_Crumple._

_Shuffle._

_Scritch. ScrItch._

_Groan. Mumble._

_Tear. Riip._

Repeat.

It doesn’t _look_ right. Why doesn’t it look right?

I’ve been at it for hours. Drawing the same lines, shading the same shadows; and _nothing_ looks right!

 _“Filou stay put.”_ The cat grumbles in protest but does as he’s told. French helps, he listens to French.

The ears don’t look right.

His ear is off kilter.

Erase them.

It smears.

Fuck. Fucking. _Shit._

Hurried, loud footsteps. A bang. “Jean!”

I jump at the excited sound, the pencil breaks streaking an un-erasable line across Filou’s drawn nose. Filou uses the distraction to escape, he zooms out the open door like the devil is on his heel. My model is gone and another drawing is ruined.

“What.” I say through gritted teeth.

“Come see! _Melody_ is beautiful in turquoise!” he sounds very weird saying turquoise, like he’s unaccustomed to saying that combination of syllables together. “I think we’ll keep her. Rent her out to someone instead.” There’s a pause after a few more seconds of ramble. I haven’t bothered looking back.

“I asked you to clean up, not make a bigger mess.” Marco says. He sounds like a mother even with the laughter bubbling. He’s in a very good mood. A very good mood Marco usually ends in sex and a very happy _satisfied_ Marco. “What are you doing?”

Sigh. “Nothing.” I snap the book closed not bothering to rip out the awful mistake. Filou’s eyes aren’t that big. The nostril don’t match the whiskers. There’s no way I can erase that streak. It’s too dark, too deep.

Either way, Marco’s right. I made a bigger mess. There’s crumpled papers forming a second layer to the pillow nest I’ve wedged myself into. The previous mess having been scattered around as I searched for materials.

“Let me just clean up.” Why is my art so off today? Am I drawing with a different hand? Did the fever take away my abilities? I’ve heard that can happen. People waking up from fevers or comas knowing a language they’ve never heard, somehow able to play a piano even though they’ve never even touched the instrument.

“We have to wait for the paint to dry. Might be hard to do in water… she’s not all blue, we don’t have enough paint for that. We’ll paint her railings and have a handsome stripe ringing around the outside deck level. Maybe just the stripe, add some highlights around the ship?” Marco rambles on hardly pausing for breath.

The news of _Melody_ being only a smidgen of turquoise saddens me. To have her entire hull the color of the Caribbean (as far as I’ve read anyway) would be a sight to see. She would be like the ocean itself, with her white sails like clouds and sailors like birds floating through the waves. In short, it paints a pretty picture. I should paint that pretty picture. Though I’ve never drawn a ship, not full scale anyway. Bits and pieces and they’ve come out well enough. Well enough for a canvas perhaps?

Marco speeds the process by helping. The trash bin is still full with discarded scrolls, books, and now my reject art.

* * *

 

“Give Ymir the ship.” Levi suggests to Marco. “That ship is worth at least three payments.” He takes a sip of his bitter black tea. Really, I’ve tried to like the stuff, but I can’t. It’s just so… blah.

“But _I_ want it.” Marco wines.

“Levi’s right- ugh!” a breeze whips by and nearly scatters the papers I have laid out on the table outside on the quarter deck. “At least then maybe we can get her back. Maybe.” Maybe working on these letters outside was a bad idea.

Marco makes an uncertain humming sound. “We still need money to pay the crew.”

“There’s enough of the extra cargo and gold from the raid to pay them.” Levi says. He leans back in his chair and opens a book.

“Are you sure?”

Levi shrugs.

Marco sighs dejectedly. “Only one way to find out. We can’t really afford to sell any of the armory we acquired.” The way he says the ‘qu’ sound is positively amusing.

Another breeze, stronger this time, sends yellowed papers rustling. Marco offers an arm thrown over them, still one manages to blow away. That’s it.

“I’m going back inside.” I announce piling the papers.

“I thought you wanted to go ashore with me?” Marco whines.

I frown. Going ashore does sound nice. “Maybe later.” I don’t really feel like being seen in public. Not with all the stares I’m getting. Not with how awful I must look. “I’m not feeling well.” Partly true.

Marco frowns in disappointment. “Alright.”

I’ll just get a snack and take a nap. I’m starting to get a migraine. Fuck. Just what I need.

“Let’s start out fitting my ship with our new toys. We can go into port tomorrow. I think giving the ship to Ymir as payment will do.” Marco says. He goes on but I’m no longer in hearing range. Don’t need to be, he’ll just tell me about it tonight when I’m trying to fucking sleep.

* * *

 

A week rolls by and my neck has finally scabbed over completely. At last. I no longer seep blood. I’ve forgotten what it felt like to retain all of my blood. I feel less woozy. Or maybe it’s because I am finally back to a regular eating schedule.

The main deck extends around the quarter deck making it a sort of platform where the helm and officers' table sits. On the aft and starboard side sits an enclosed area where a chicken coop rests. It’s well protected by a shed like structure that sinks into the deck and a hatch closes over if ever the chickens where in trouble. Around the shed is a sturdy fence that can be pulled away when the chicken coop descends. (Some sort of pulley system that goes into what would be the navigation room if it hadn’t been converted to the animal room. Healthier for the animals says Sasha). This part of the ship is more damaged due to the chicken shit.

That’s where Marco finds me, feeding the chickens because my art hasn’t gotten any better and the letters give me headaches and I’ve got nothing better to do. Marco has been jittery, it’s been roughly two weeks I’m told. I had watch last night and the moon was a tiny sliver so they’ll be here any day now.

The cock struts about and pecks at my feet. There’s no feed there. Maybe it’s because I’m male? Maybe he thinks I’m competition. The hens go about their business of ignoring the cock, shitting, and laying eggs. There’s a black hen I’ve taken a liking to. She’s plump as a goose and holds the unwavering confidence as an old grandmother. Sasha calls her Nanny.

“There you are. I have a present for you!” Marco’s steps scatters the chickens nearest to me. They cluck and warble in distress.

“What is it?”

“Stay here. Don’t move. Close your eyes. Please.” Marco smiles so hard he gets dimples.

“Ookay…” I don’t close my eyes, but he’s already gone so it doesn’t matter.

Marco comes back a few minutes later, the chickens scatter away. This time further away and into the coop. Marco has something under his arms. It’s moving.

“Close your eyes.”

Sigh. “Fine.”

There’s a strange warble. Like and an indignant warble and a flump of something landing on the deck.

“Okay.”

It’s a bird. A big bird. And it’s blue. And green. It has ridiculously flamboyant feather crests and blinks with a haughtiness only seen in the high society douchebags. It struts about with its multi-color tail dragging on the ground as it surveys its surroundings.

“Is that a-”

“A peacock? Yes. Isn’t he beautiful? I told you I’d get you something just as pretty as _Melody_.”

“He’s mine?” I’m in awe. I’ve never seen a peacock before. Only even saw evidence of its existence through their tail feathers that decorate high dames’ hats.

“Mhm.”

The peacock fans out his tail feathers scaring off the more timid lady chickens. The rooster, wanting to show off, fluffs his own feathers in protest. The peacock isn’t impressed.

“Is it safe to touch him?” I ask. Marco is positively beaming.

“I think so, he hardly protested on the trek here.”

Cautiously (because this thing looks like a better dressed turkey and turkeys are evil) I step forward to pet my new feathered friend. He rears his neck back in a way I can only describe as ‘the fuck you think you’re doing’ and finally place a hand on his back. His caw startles me and the man happening to pass by. It’s loud, obnoxiously so.

It takes a few pats and a few reassuring sounds for the peacock to stop looking like he wants to peck my eyeballs out. Eventually he starts pecking at the ground for the left over feed the chickens had abandoned. As he walks by one of his tail feather fall out.

I wonder if you can make this into a quill. I pick it up and twirl it.

“I knew you’d like him!” Marco hops. “Better tell Sasha this one isn’t for eating.”

“Yeah.” I get up to do that, maybe she’ll let me help out in the kitchen again. I’m so fucking bored.

* * *

 

It’s just after dinner the day after Marco gave me that peacock, (I don’t have a name for him yet, I’ve never named a bird before. I’m really feeling ‘Asshole’ though.) and I feel the need to thank Marco in the only way I can think of. Sex. If he’s up for it, I don’t know how his chest is doing.

Anyway, Marco lays on his back in bed with his eyes closed. A pleasant smile gracing his face. Hands folded neatly over his stomach as he breathes evenly. He’s awake, just dozing after a nice dinner. I sat next to him during dinner and tried to be as flirty as possible by talking softly in his ear, gently bumping into him with whatever body part seemed convenient at the time, kissing his cheek, stealing food from his plate, letting him feed me, etcetera etcetera.

Marco was elated and I’ll admit it was nice. Fun even.

But sex is more fun. And even if we can’t exert ourselves to a full exercise, I can be satisfied with a good rub off, it doesn’t take too much effort for that.

“Marco.” I simper rolling over to sit in his flat lap.

“Hmmmm?” he exhales the hum.

“How are you feeling? Any pain?” my fingers pull apart his hanfu to look at his chest. It’s bare of bandages, he must be airing it out. The wound has mostly healed, only the bullet wound remains. Scabbed over much the way my own mutiny souvenir is. The bullet graze and arm injury healed scars. Occasionally he itches the small scabs off and they bleed a little as scratched off scabs do.

“No pain dear.” He answers wistfully. Fingers continue to rub into his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscle there. Marco really is an attractive guy. I’m glad I got stuck with him instead of some hairy, greasy, fat pig with no dental hygiene to speak of.

“That’s good.” I drag my pelvis purposefully lower against his to kiss around his chest. Marco hums, unhooking his hands to gently grasp my hips.

“What are you doing pet?” he grumbles, it’s a happy mushed together sound that comes out more like ‘wateroodoinpeht?’ His hands rub circles on the bones of my hips.

‘My job’ nearly slips out. “Pleasing you.”

Marco finally gets the message and opens his eyes. They hold a little glitter. I take that as a go head and start to languidly move my hips back and forth across his. He pulls me down by the shoulders for a deep kiss full of humming moans and tiny giggles.

“The fuck have I told you about sex with those injuries!” a brash voice damn near screams, sending both of us to jump fucking three feet in the air.

“What the shit Jaeger!? Merde, salaud suicidaire, jamais entendu parler de frapper?” _Shit, you suicidal bastard, ever hear of knocking?_ Recognizing the insult of ‘suicidal bastard’ Eren scowls fiercely.

“Chevelvisage.” He snarls.

Did he just!? Oh hell no. I’m about to open a can of whoop ass when Marco scrambles up, sending me toppling backwards onto my side of the bed. “Eren!” he barrels into Eren with a bone crushing hug then grabbing his upper arms fiercely he shakes him like a rag doll demanding, “Did they hurt you? Oh gods, did they?”

Eren shakes Marco’s hands off (with more difficulty than anticipated if his concentrated face has anything to say), “No. I gave them my what for, they didn’t touch me. Not after I broke Ymir’s nose.”

“You..?” Marco’s at a loss for words. He stumbles back to sit on the bed bringing his hand to his head in disbelief.

“Nice.” I tell Eren who shrugs nonchalantly.

“Where..?” Marco asks fearfully glancing around for his Ladies.

“They want breakfast, tomorrow. They’ve anchored close by, close enough that I could jump over.” Eren answers. Marco’s shoulders sag in relief. Guess he hasn’t prepared himself yet. He said he has a plan to get them off his back for good. I’m not sure he’ll have the confidence to stand up to them if I’m completely honest.

Eren steps closer and leans over to examine Marco’s chest. “Healing well.” He murmurs. He turns his gaze me. “You?”

“Scabbed.”

“Okay.” he nods to himself then rubs his eyes. “Jesus I’m so tired. You won’t believe how many people demand to be looked at. I’m glad I’m back. Your crew isn’t so demanding to wake me up in the middle of the night just to take out a splinter. Your people have the decency to make an appointment.” Eren yawns again and excuses himself, declaring himself unfit to be awake any longer.

“I’m glad you’re back home safe and sound Eren. Mikasa and Armin have missed you. I dare say even Levi missed you.” Marco says to his retreating back.

Eren gives a backwards wave in answer.

“Guess that rub off is a no go.” I sigh disappointed.

“Who said that?” Marco grins and promptly tackles me into the bed.

* * *

 

Morning comes with sore thigh muscles and a horrid sun beam in my face. I elect to turn around and throw the blankets over my head to block out the light.

“Those are my terms.”

Voices bring me out of slumber this time. The rear bed curtains are closed, I can’t see whose talking and that horrid sun isn’t in my eyes anymore.

“That’s ridiculous.” A higher pitched voice shrills. She’s shushed by a more manly toned voice.

The dredges of sleep haven’t left. I fall back to a fitful slumber where everything is a haze. That place where you’re neither here nor there. A fucking annoying place.

“I’m through being your lap dog.” He stage whispers; they’re all whispering.

The arguing continues till its loud talking and in another language. It escalades till it’s near yelling. I’m too tired to tell them to shut the fuck up. The yelling is stopped by a thunderous slam that has me awake instantly.

“The fuck?” my questioning goes ignored by the yellers.

“You take that ship as my last payment! You will leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you, I never have! What you did to me was unforgivable! Saying sorry can’t repair the fact that I can’t look at a vagina without feeling sick! It can’t repair how much I distrust women!” it’s Marco that’s screaming. Fuck, I didn’t think he could sound so _mean_.

“Marco, we didn’t know- how could we? You liked it so much-” I can’t tell which one of them said that. Marco sputters and starts cursing in Chinese.

“Calm down. So you have trust issues, welcome to the club. Look at where you are at now, captain of your very own ship and crew. You owe us that.” It’s Ymir. “Listen, what we did was wrong, and we can’t possibly make it up to you-”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing. You stole me from my home, from my family. You forced me into those acts. Did you ever ask me if I wanted to do those things? I _begged_ you to stop.” Marco’s voice is cold and deadly. It chills me. I don’t know what to do. Do I lay here and pretend to be asleep? No, not even Bertholdt could sleep through that yelling match.

I decide to get up and try to calm Marco down. Somehow.

He glances my way as I limp over to him (my foot still bothers me a little) his face twists from forced anger to apologetic. “We woke you.” He says, tone soft and inviting.

“Yeah.” I say through a yawn.

Krista is a flushed pink. I can’t tell if it’s from shame or anger, maybe both. Ymir has this look in her eye. Regret. Shame. Irritation.

“You never used the safe words.” Ymir mutters. Her voice is soft and regretful.

“I barely knew English then. You hardly spoke my language. How was I supposed to know what they meant? I’m done dealing with all your excuses and manipulation and either of you at all. Stop coming to me. I’m not your plaything to push around anymore. Please leave.” Marco says as calmly as his shaking vocals allow. I snuggle close to him placing a reassuring head on his shoulder.

“Marco-” Krista tries.

“Get off my ship!” Marco’s yell has all three of us jumping.

“Fine. We’ll meet again love.” Ymir states standing. Krista rises as well.

“I don’t doubt that.” Marco whispers to their back. Whether or not they heard that is a mystery to me.

It takes a while for Marco to calm down.

I don’t leave him for a second.

* * *

 

Yesterday was a mess. But at least Ymir left without Eren and took the ship as a peace offering. Marco no longer has to pay her taxes, though out of mercy on their part (an apology or left over affection I think) he gets immunity and is still protected by her fleet.

“Jean, what do you think of this map?” Marco swings himself off the bed (nearly clocking me in the head) to shove the old musty thing in my nose. “It’s in Spanish and even if were a language I knew, I doubt I could decipher the chicken pen-”

“Scratch.” I correct him unrolling the map (it had rolled itself back up) to take a look at it.

“Chicken scratch. I have a hard enough time reading my own language.” He blabbers on bout something, I don’t know. There’s a lot of background noise going on. With the window recently shut due to the thick fog, everything coming from outside is muffled. It sounds like whooshing and whooping, perhaps there’s a storm on the rise and it’s just the wind and sea whispering a warning.

Sitting on the wooden floor with my back braced against the bed sounded like a good idea at the time. But with Marco nearly clocking me in the head with his skeletal feet and the way my tail bone wails distress on prolonged sitting, makes me think otherwise. I mean, I get decent light here with the sunlight filtering through the window and bouncing off relatively shinny things and the lantern swinging from the ceiling above the bed that Marco lit, and the fact that the table hasn’t moved from where Marco supposedly skootched over to put me in its place. It felt like as good as any place to review my notes on those letters.

Anyway, Marco cuffs me lightly after realizing I’m not listening and instead in my own internal monolog about how unfair my life has been.

“You could at least pretend to listen. I do for you.”

Well excuse the fuck out of me. I shift, leaning more on my right buttock to give the tail bone a break and to get better lighting for the forced observation of a map I have no real interest in.

Wait a minute, I know this map. The tan and spring green lands. The fading stark black letters and lines. The light blues of the ocean. It’s the map Levi and Eren filched from that one American ship. Shit, how long ago was that? A month? Maybe two? I’ve lost time between being sick and mostly unconscious my entire stay with Marco. (He must be hazardous to my health).

Spanish, huh? I have to nearly face plant and squint real hard to make out the squished lettering. It’s an alphabet of European origin I’m sure… _Vingt-quatre noeuds à l'est pendant quatre jours_. Just hold on one fucking minute.

“Marco…” I whisper like it’s some sort of a secret. This map… this isn’t Spanish, some of it, but they’re names of places… but the rest it’s, “This isn’t Spanish; it’s French.”

“Really!?” Marco says excitedly, “Can you read it?”

Maybe, it’s an old map. The words are so squished together they might as well be blots of ink rather than words. “I-”

The window implodes with a soul crunching crash. Was there a distant boom a split second before that? Glass sprays everywhere. Hardly a millisecond goes by before a thunderous crack smashes through the wall opposite the window. A sizable hole roughly the shape of a cannon ball becomes the new wall decoration. Did the iron ball stop in the wall, or did it go through?

“What the fuck!?” I screech. What unholy hell was that? Pretty sure Marco screeched something similar, but when I look he’s no longer beside me. He’s in front of what used to be the window gazing back with wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“Hide the map!” he shouts. “Your notes on the letters too!” he starts by shoving the tattered curtains closed and tossing me a box with a lock on it. Where did that come from? “The money too!” he says in an afterthought.

“Why?” I shout back. There’s yelling outside loud enough for such a thing. He’s peeking out the holes of the curtains. Heavy footsteps thunder towards us (it’s Reiner I bet). Low and behold Reiner slams his way in.

“Marco!” he yells.

I follow Marco’s gaze out the window and gape myself. “Who the fuck is that?!” a shape eases out of the thinning fog. The skies are a white grey and that ship is massive. Wide and formidable like an old cranky sow. The figure head is on old twisted war ravaged mermaid. The sails are an awful yellowing color so unlike Marco’s trim white sails. Even from a distance you can see how unkempt that ship is.

“Kitt.” Both Reiner and Marco answer.

“Well fuck.”

Who was that guy again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: ???????? the fight with Kitt I suppose.


	28. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about he LONG ASS WAIT, but the last two+ months have been hell. First stress at school, then my cat of 10 years gets sick and passes away Oct 17. Then some small frustrations in like my financial aid STILL NOT COMING IN, and more school stress. Also writers block. hahaha. it's fine -sets self on fire-  
> so here it is chapter whatever this is at now.
> 
> Let me know if I got any of the French wrong (and pls correct me)

Glass shatters.

Wood splinters.

Jean curses.

A distant boom.

A splash.

Stomping footsteps.

“Marco!” Reiner shouts.

It doesn’t take long to recognize that ship. A ship with fog that shrouds the hulking mass of rotting wood. The fog comes from the ship itself and not from where ever fog is supposed to come from. It’s eerie. Strange. Out of this world.

And to think I thought this month couldn’t get any worse.

Jean is, for lack of a better word, disgruntled. His rare good natured mood ruined by the rude presence of my enemy.

Kitt scares me. He is so chaotic. Nothing he says or does makes any sense to anyone outside his own mind, it’s never good – even less to those who oppose him. The only predictable thing about that paranoid son-of-a-slug is that you can always count on him doing something crazy. Captain Kitt is truly terrifying. In short: the man is completely irrational.

I always feel so _uncomfortable_ around him. The familiar itch just beneath the skin begins to sizzle – like a sixth or seventh sense warning me about “danger” and “flee immediately” – as I shout orders at bewildered Jean.

“Jean.” I pause, if I tell him to stay here he’ll just follow anyway. If we lose and they find him down here they’ll know he’s special. “Hurry to hide these things. A good place. Change into old clothes and join the crew. For fighting.” The surprise he shows would be amusing if it weren’t for the dire situation.

“Marco!” Reiner repeats.

Oh yes, the crew. _“Get as many canons ready! Get battle ready! Arm the men, woman, everyone!”_ I’ve slipped back into Chinese, most people understand that. It might be because I’m also panicking.

We’re not ready for this fight. We haven’t even started drilling with the new canons yet. Half of them aren’t even fixed in their positions. I don’t even know where to start. Any ambush like this have always been navy and I almost always give the order to flee.

“We might have to flee some, for wiggle room. We can’t fight in these conditions.” Reiner huffs as we pound up the stairs to the hatch.

“Yeah.” We reach the deck. The air smells sour. “Thomas! Give us some wiggle room! As much as you can! _Get those canons ready!”_ I don’t know who I’m ordering, but several people jump to do it.

Madness. Complete and utter madness. People are scurrying like discovered rats. Sprinting through near panicked men twice my size to get to the helm deck is exhausting.

Kitt’s ship is on our tail. We’re not going fast enough, he’s in canon range. The railing creaks with how hard I hold on to it. _'_ _You’re faster than this Liúlàng zhě. We_ will _beat the man who defaced you. We just need to go faster.’_ As if by magic, the winds fill the slumping sails and we jump. Several people stumble, not expecting the sudden burst of speed. _‘That’s a good boy.’_

The anxiety ebbs enough for crewmen to get some actual work done.

We can do this.

Look how far we’ve run, if we can weave into some reefs, we can win. Kitt’s ship is too big and heavy to navigate those types of waters.

It feels like hours, but we’ve put enough distance between us that perhaps we won’t have to fight after all. Maybe we can get away. Can we? Gazing back reveals nothing but blue waters and a mist far off on the horizon. Not far enough away to be much of a comfort though.

Everyone breathes in a sigh of relief. Things get put into place more smoothly now that we don’t have someone riding us uncomfortably. A good fight might do some good for us, we’ve been restless and agitated, but not against them. We’re not ready. Kitt is crazy. Known famously for his irrationality and the by-the-book-Christian ways. Word had it that Ymir was nearly burned at the stake by him. And if Ymir fears him, then I suppose it’s safe to assume everyone fears him a little.

A crack of thunder, much too close for comfort, sounds shortly before a round black blur whizzes past Eren and I to hit Thomas low in the abdomen. It goes through with a crack and squelch only to bounce of the top deck and onto the lower decks with hollow heavy sounds. Blood and gore spray us both. I think I’m going to be sick. Thomas has a look of surprise, as if someone had only spooked him.

He’s dead though. Dead as his pink insides fall out of the cavity and splat sickly onto my polished deck. I can’t look, Thomas thuds to the floor.

Thomas is dead.

Eren’s gone by the time I’m brave enough to look up.

No way.

The scene before my eyes is impossible.

We left them behind.

Kitt’s ship is directly behind us, gaining speed, turning just slightly to run with us.

But how is that possible?

There’s no time to ponder this wonder with the sudden onslaught of canon fire and piercing battle cries that fill the echoing empty ocean.

We’re quickly over taken and me along with several others (at least a dozen or so) are corralled into the center. Seeing over heads shorter than I, I see the same happening to everyone. Jean is in my cluster. He has gunpowder burns tattooed into his arms and blood staining skin and clothes. He is fierce with barred teeth and a frustrated growl rumbling low in his throat. He also sports a very dashing red handkerchief tied around his neck to hide his scars. He looks good, you know, considering the situation.

Jean still holds his rapier. His arm shakes, his entire body quakes. He’s frightened, but holding out. I’ve lost my sword and both my pistols are out of ammo. No is close enough to use them as clubs.

We’re losing.

We _lost._

We can’t do this.

We’re missing too many people.

“Gottverdammte Scheiße!” Eren breaks the tense silence (it’s not silent, far from it, but the sounds have quieted.) and tears through their defenses with what looks like a belying pin. Jean isn’t far behind in following Mr. Jaeger’s example.

The circle of enemies break with Eren and Jean’s sudden attack. They scramble back in confusion. Good. Good. Well, can’t chicken out now. Not if my crew is still fighting. Got to set a good example after all.

And just like that the battle is back on.

Reiner tosses a bleeding man over. He looks a bit miffed but doesn’t appear to be hurt, actually he looks to be having fun. I wonder where Bertholdt is? He’s been attached to Reiner’s hip and he’s a pacifist. Never seen him even raise his voice to anyone.

Loosing track of my surroundings almost costs me a leg. Only the shots warn me of a fly away canon ball. I’m able to leap away just in time for it to harmlessly pass by.

It’s times like these that has me questioning why I thought being a pirate was such a good idea. Father always said I had an unrealistic expectations of the world. Suppose he was right.

“Marco!” it’s Connie. Maybe. There’s so much going. “Captain. Marco!”

“Yes?”

Connie shoves a sword into my empty hands. It’s too heavy. “Bertholdt and Levi are working on getting some gunpowder barrels onto the other ship.” Cone chucks the empty pistol he grabbed from me at a passing guy.

I have to use both hands for this sword and it’s making my wrist hurt. “Why are they wasting my powder? I stole that fair and square.”

“Flaming arrows!” Connie shouts as he’s pulled away from me as the fighting crowd thickens around us.

What does that even mean?

Dozens of minutes go by before I can spot anyone I recognize. It’s Sasha and Armin climbing up the rattling, what are they doing? Can Armin even fight?

Eren whirls by, a large man at his heels. I cut his Achilles tendon without thought. Eren shouts a thank you that is drowned out by the deafening roar and boom that knocks everyone to the ground. And it clicks. Flaming arrows. Sash and Armin up high. Barrels of gunpowder on Kitt’s ship. Duh.

Maybe we will win this.

There are several more blasts before the enemy begins to regroup and wizen up. Well, not really wizen up per-say, more like fight even harder. Which is bad for us for hey out number us ten to one.

Through the fray I’ve somehow managed to be backed up into Kitt. He’s as surprised as I am, I’ve never seen him off his ship. I don’t think he’s ever fought amongst his men before either. This is all so very strange, what on earth is going on?

He swings his sword down, I barely managed to lift mine in order to deflect. The clang sends painful shocks down my arm. I hate this sword. Never in million years had I thought I’d fight Kitt let along think that he could be this strong. Each hit he swings has my knees buckling. Having this stupid heavy sword doesn’t help, I can barely control it. I need a lighter sword. I need Kitt to fumble. But he hasn’t and with that crazed look I doubt he will.

“Filthy sodomite!” Kitt screams, spittle flies and nearly flecks me in the face. What the hell is a sodomite?

He draws back, only to strike like a snake. The hard strike sends painful after-shocks buzzing down my arm. The sword flies away. Kitt is quick to use the pummel of his sword to hit my cheek hard enough for me to stumble several large steps and see stars. Is someone calling my name? Another hit to the temple as me on the floor, black spots have replaced the stars. This is what Jean must have felt that day, it is not pleasant in the least. Kitt grabs my hair (it’s too long now) in a vice grip to heave me up enough to put his sword against my neck. Well, this is humiliating, on my knees, Kitt straddling my calves, head forced up at a painful angle by the hair. This is almost exactly like the play me and Jean did a few nights ago.

“Surrender! Or I slice! Your Captain’s throat!” the booming voice easily carries over the loud crowd and blasts. His voice penetrates deep within my throbbing skull, rather painfully I might add. Surrender? That makes no sense. It takes a few minutes, but eventually Kitt’s crew is able to disarm and neutralize my own. I’m still trying to get the black spots to go away. Struggling only causes Kitt to grip harder. My chest burns.

One by one, I’m forced to watch as my proud friends get shackled. What a nightmare I’m in. Surely this isn’t real? My luck can’t possibly be this bad. _We’ll see you again love._ Didn’t Ymir say that before she left? Is this why Kitt hasn’t slaughtered everyone? No, Ymir wouldn’t do that. She’s what Jean said, a snake. And snakes do their own dirty work.

“I hope! You all enjoy! Your stay! In my brig! Where most of you! Will be staying! Forever!” What? And why is he pausing like that? He talks so weird. Next thing I know, I’m being thrown aside. He hardly lets go before that asshole smacks my temple. I’m out like a light.

I hope I got that metaphor right.

* * *

 

 _“Uuhhgg…”_ ugh my aching head. What happened?

“Hey, he’s waking up.” Someone whispers close by.

“What-what happened?” there are many people all around me. Most of them sit in slumped postures.

“We lost.” Says Levi. His voice comes from somewhere in back.

“You got knocked out.” Connie says nervously. He sits next to me. Sasha sits at the other corner. Reiner and Bertholdt are in a cell next to ours. Eren, Armin, and Jean are in the cell across. I don’t see Mikasa. Crew I don’t know by name are crammed in each cell I can spot.

“Is this everyone?” it’s a little too dark to see the rest, and there are too many people in the way to see other cells.

“Yeah. We only had maybe hundred or more people on board. They took us all, a lot were too wounded so Kitt left them on your ship.” Connie mumbles. I understand his unease. Kitt is racist, incredibly so. He’s infamous for hanging blacks and keel hauling a man who even looks at another man funny.

Panic settles over me. “What about my ship!?” did he sink him!? Oh no, not my baby!

“Calm down Marco, he just left the wounded to die and ransacked the place then set it adrift. Don’t know why, that stupid thing is better than this piece of junk.” Jean says. He’s leaned against the front corner of his cell smoking a cigarette. How? He must have had them hidden.

“He’s not stupid. My ship I mean.” It makes me feel slightly better that Kitt didn’t sink my ship, but the odds of me ever finding it again intact are low. I sigh sadly. “Sorry about this guys. I never thought Kitt would come looking for us.” There are angry grumbles circulating. That’s okay, I deserve their anger. I’m a terrible captain.

“Is anyone hurt?” I ask after the anger has died. Most say some variations of no. That’s good then. “How many are we missing?”

“Who cares? Kitt will probably kill us all anyway.” Reiner shrugs. He is standing, resting his arms on the cross bar staring down at us all. “We need to get out of here.”

“And how the fuck are we going to do that you damn gorilla. You going to bend the bars?” Jean snorts, flicks his dead cigarette in Reiner’s general direction and crosses his arm while he sinks to the floor.

“At least I’m trying to help lighten the mood. Not everyone here are pessimistic twats like you.” Reiner counters icily.

“Enough!” I stand, I have to hold onto Mikasa (there she is) because I nearly fall over with a sudden onset of vertigo. “How long has it been?”

“Almost a day.” Someone answers.

“Then we can’t escape. My ship is too far away and there are too many people. We are outnumbered and out gunned.”

“So you’re saying we should just do nothing?” it’s someone from another cell, the one to the left of Jean’s cell. He has a heavy Hindu accent and pauses to translate for the others.

“No, I’m saying we should bide our time.” I correct.

“So do nothing.” Jean says.

Defeated, I slump back down to the ground. We aren’t getting out of this. We’re doomed.

* * *

 

Days go by. We’re barely fed. Once a day. A bowl of slimy oatmeal that even Sasha has trouble getting down. I keep trying to get everyone to eat, to keep our strength up, but it doesn’t work. Water comes in a big heavy skin that has to be shared between all of us. It never lasts the night. The chamber pots are full by midday and many of the girls simply wait for night fall to do their duty. Reiner offered many times to stand in from to give them some sort of modesty, but it doesn’t fly.

By the week’s end, we all stink to high heavens and I’ve lost count of how many times the pot has tipped over. I’ve been lucky enough to never be anywhere near it when it happens though. So I guess I have some luck left.

There’s twenty people each in a cell. One cell is lucky enough to have only a dozen or so.

We still don’t know why we’re all alive, or what Kitt plans to do to us.

* * *

 

We’re halfway through the fifth day before I begin to feel ill. Like all the energy has been drained out of me. It happened in the morning, just before the guards locked us in shackles to take us up for fresh air. I had trouble controlling the dizziness that settled over me. Jean and Eren managed to sneak me into their cell without any notice. And if they noticed, no one cared.

By night fall I can’t get up. I’m covered in sweat and freezing cold. I feel like I’m fighting a fever yet I have no cough, no sneezes, no infection. I don’t understand. Even with the fear of discovery, Jean holds me while I shiver violently and try to fight off whatever is making me like this. If Kitt finds Jean holding me like this, he could be hanged, or worse.

Still the girls fear more. Besides the passing snide remark and the name calling, not to mention the many hands-y individuals, they haven’t been harmed. Kitt told his crew not to soil their souls will sodomites and harlots.

“Je-Jean?” I say through chattering teeth.

“Hm? Yeah?” His head was resting on mine, I lay nearly in his lap. Poor Jean, I woke him.

“What’s a-a Sodomite?”

“A sinner.” Jean yawns.

“I know, but what k-kind of sinner?”

“Depending on who you talk to, the worst kind.” Jean yawns again. I make a disapproving sound because that’s not what I asked. “A sodomite is a man who lies with another man. I think it applies to women too.”

“Like us?”

“Yeah.”

“Actually, Sodomite, is someone who commits sodomy. And sodomy is when you have un-procreative sex. That can mean orally, anally, with animals, I think masturbation counts too.” Armin says.

“I was right.” Jean mumbles into my head. He’s already asleep again.

“And what’s a harlot Armin?”

“A prostitute or promiscuous woman.” Armin answers.

“None of my girls are prostitutes. And if they are they are not filthy.” I feel one of the kitchen maids pat my leg.

 _“You are good man captain.”_ She says. It makes me smile. I am a good guy aren’t I?

“Didn’t Jesus hang out with a harlot? And you know there was a rumor he fell in love with her and married her. But of course Jesus can’t have _sex_.” Eren snorts at his last comment.

I’ve closed my eyes to sleep. Curling into Jean more for more warmth. It’s so cold. Armin and Eren then get into a quiet debate (most talking) about the theory and just Christianity as a whole. Most of what Eren is saying is that it’s all misinterpreted and people need to mind their own business. Which I agree, but I really don’t care. Please shut up about it. I didn’t mean to open this can of caterpillars.

That didn’t sound right at all.

* * *

 

 _“Help him. I can’t. Crazy man coming.”_ Jean is whispering to someone in Chinese. I’m so proud. Jean’s warmth disappears only to be replace with a different kind of warmth. Gone is the hardness of his shoulder, replaced by the soft bosom of a well-endowed woman. I miss him already.

“What’s wrong wit ‘m?” our guard asks. There’s a clank to the bars, like he hit them with something.

“A fever.” Eren growls.

Nothing more is said. The guard checks us all out before he goes away.

Jean returns to my side, the women who held me stays close.

* * *

 

A few hours go by and the guard comes back, it’s time for our daily walk in the sun. I can’t get up, even with Eren and Jean hauling my limp carcass. It feels as if I’ve spun for many hours and then someone stuck their foot out to trip me. I’m stuck in the constant state of falling with the word spinning so fast it blurs into smudged colors. I tried telling whoever was holding me this, but I don’t think they understood.

A hand feels my forehead, it’s sweaty and oily. Bath, I need a bath. The mere mention of warm clean water has me moaning.

“Shhh. Don’t let them hear you moan like that.” Jean whispers, he’s trying to get me to stand up but my knees keep buckling.

“It’s no use, we’ll have to leave him down here. Unless Marco wants to be dragged around.” Eren lets go of one arm leaving Jean to manage my bulk back to the ground.

“’E dyin’ or somethin’?” another man asks.

“No. He just has a fever.” Eren growls again.

“We got to get out of here and get Marco proper care. They won’t care if we rot in here with a corpse.” Jean whispers to Eren as they wait their turn to be shackled.

Wow thanks Jean. Nice to know how you feel about my state.

“He’s not dying.” Thank you Eren I’m not dying. I just feel really weak and about to throw up. “He’s not sick. Not like real sick. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve seen it before, it happens to women mostly after they have lost a child or a husband they were particularly close to.”

“He’s hysteric? But he doesn’t have a uterus?” Jean is incredulous.

“You honestly believe the uterus is responsible for a woman’s shock to something happening?” Eren looks so done with Jean.

“Not really, but that’s what all the doctors say. So he’s just in shock?” Funny, I don’t feel like I’m in shock. And if I am, why did it take so long? I’ve been in here almost four days, shock should have happened the night of or after… confusion makes me dizzier.

“Yeah, it should go away soon…hopefully.” They are pulled away and I can’t hear any more of their conversation. Probably the most civil conversation they’ve ever had.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually everyone but the very sick are taken out for air. There are more sick people than I thought. At least thirty. Oh, the bench, it’s empty. It’s mine. Mine. It takes so long to stand and figure out how to walk again; so long that by the time I’ve sat down the others are coming back. Jean is last in. Eren gets shoved into another cell. Levi materializes next to me, feeling my head then whipping his hand on his clean trousers. How is he so clean?

“I was afraid of this.” He comments.

Jean walk over to lay me down so my head is in his lap. Food will be coming soon, he shouldn’t. What he’s doing is-is what’s the word? Queer. He’s acting queer by caring for me this way.

“Afraid of what?” Jean asks. He keeps turning me till I’m on my back (this bench is really long, long enough for me to lie on without my legs hanging over _and_ have Jean sit), I’m like a doll in his hands. Not like I can protest much. A women with a rag comes to wipe my face whispering encouraging things to me. What a nice lady. She must have children and- the children! What happened to the children?

“This sickness…I’ve seen it before.” Levi leans against the wall staring at Jean. I close my eyes, so sleepy.

“So has Eren, he says it’s shock…um hysteria…” Jean sounds unsure.

“Non. Marco est pas en état de choc parce que l'hystérie, il est malade parce qu'il est trop long de son navire.” Levi says in French. French? Why?

“Quoi? Ça n'a aucun sens.” Jean says back.

“Vous savez qu'il fait, vous avez senti de sa 'présence. Ce navire est un esprit.” Levi sounds bored, but also worried.

“…Je ne comprends pas. Il est juste un bateau.”

“Marco invité un esprit par accident. Il ne sait pas le navire est possédé. Mais l'esprit est en amour avec lui.” The French is starting to make my head hurt.

“Si elle est dans l'amour avec lui, alors pourquoi est-il le rendait malade?”

“Parce qu'il est possédé.” Levi states…I think.

“That doesn’t- You said you’ve seen this before? Does that mean you saw-” Jean sounds irritated, not that I’m blaming him. Though my irritation is directed toward the fact that they are talking about me in a way that I can’t understand.

“Je l'ai vu un exorcisme, voilà ce qui arrive après, parfois avant. Le possédé est malade de ce genre, la lutte pour le contrôle de l'âme. Parfois, l'âme gagne, il ne et un prêtre a parfois besoin de ne pas être appelé.” Levi sounds like he’s explaining something. Jean’s petting of my hair stops briefly.

“That’s crazy. You’re crazy.” He continues petting.

“You said so yourself. That night.” Levi’s footsteps fades as he leaves. He can’t go anywhere, he just most likely left our sights.

Jean has gone quiet.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing. Levi doesn’t talk that long to people like us” I say yawning, so sleepy. Did I even get to sleep last night?

Jean snorts. “It’s nothing. Levi just said that you are recovering from being possessed too long.”

“That is ridiculous.” I slur.

“Yeah. Ridiculous.” Jean sounds strange, hollow almost.

“Jean?”

“What is it now Marco?”

“What happened to the children?”

“I don’t know. Ask the mothers.” Clinking of keys and stomping of boots down water logged steps is the signal for Jean to get up and gently rest my head back down.

Jean tries to get me to eat, but I end up throwing it back up a few minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in order:
> 
> Eren: Fuck this!
> 
> Levi: No. Marco is not in shock because hysteria, he is sick because he is too long from his ship.
> 
> Jean: What? That makes no sense.
> 
> Levi: You know it does, you have felt its’ presence. That ship is a spirit.
> 
> Jean: …I don’t understand. It’s just a boat.
> 
> Levi: Marco invited a spirit by accident. He doesn’t know the ship is possessed. But the spirit is in love with him.
> 
> Jean: If it’s in love with him then why is it making him sick?
> 
> Levi: Because he is possessed.
> 
> Levi: I’ve seen an exorcism, this is what happens afterwards, sometimes before. The possessed is sick like this, the soul  
> fights for control. Sometimes the soul wins, sometimes it does not and a priest needs to be called.


	29. It'll Be Fine I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean saves the day.

I’m not sure I believe Marco is being possessed by an obsessive spirit. A spirit that happens to be his precious ship. I am starting to believe the ship is…something though; and Marco _would_ be dumb enough to summon something, but him getting sick because he’s away too long? Ridiculous. Has he even been away from that stupid ship long enough for this to happen, or is this a first?

“Levi, has this ever happened to Marco before?” I ask him nervously after Marco had fallen into a fit-full sleep.

Levi opens his eyes. I’m sure he wasn’t sleeping. Don’t think he does. He shrugs. “Every once in a while Marco will decide to disband everyone and he goes home for a few months. It will probably happen after we get out of here. Whether or not this happens when he’s home I wouldn’t know.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re full of questions aren’t you?”

I shrug back at him. Marco talks a lot about himself, but it’s never something important.

“He takes vacations in times of stress. He’ll dock his ship, pay everyone, and goes home. After how ever long it’s been, he finds us and we go pirating again.” Levi leans back against the wall. He looks a little ill. To be fair we’re all a little ill. Everyone has some sort of nausea being down here so long with so many people.

“Oh.” Silence replaces or meager conversation. I have so many more questions, but I’m not sure if I care to get the answers. Why am I always stuck with all the bullshit in life?

“He seems to be getting better.” Armin comes over to cram himself close. It’s cold and damp down here, we need all the warmth and comfort we can suck out of other people.

“Not really. He’s the same, just asleep.” It’s too uncomfortable to sleep and I don’t feel safe. It felt safe in Marco’s brig. What a thought.

“I guess so.” mine and Armin’s conversation quickly dies. Then after a while Armin adds, “How do you think Marco summoned a spirit to his ship?”

“You heard that huh? I keep forgetting you and Eren understand French.” Sighing I think about it, “I don’t think Marco summoned it, I think he... awakened it.”

“What do you mean?”

“That ship always had a spirit.”

After a few seconds of silence Armin pipes up, “I get it. Marco simply woke it up with his own love of it and the pirate life. That’s kind of cute if you think about it.” Armin laughs a little. I don’t think he believes this.

“If it wasn’t trying to get rid of me.” I mutter and try to sink deeper into the unforgiving wood.

Armin gives me a strange look but doesn’t comment on it. I’m glad, don’t think I can explain that. It all makes sense now. All the strange things Marco’s ship does that appears to be luck or even witchcraft. (Don’t see Marco actually _doing_ witchcraft, though there’s a lot of things I don’t know about him so who can say?) All Marco’s pets being killed or running away, causing Marco to increasingly rely on his ship for comfort instead of an actual human being. Maybe it’s best for Marco if that ship sinks.

“What do you feel for Marco?” Armin asks.

“Nothing.” Is my immediate response, but is that true?

“You guys have been having sex for months, there’s got to be something.” Armin practically whines.

Why is everyone so invested in my sex life? There has to be something better to talk about besides me (I love talking about myself, but this is getting out of hand).

After a while Armin’s shoulder shoves mine I realize he was waiting for a response shrugging I tell him my honest to god opinion. “In another life maybe I could have loved him like normal people love people. But here and now, he is just a friend who happens to enjoy plowing me into the mattress every once in a while.”

“That’s it?” Armin sounds disappointed. Good.

“Yeah.” Another shrug. “He’s a nice guy I suppose…I’d probably be spouting poetry at him if he was a girl though.” Armin snorts, well you know what doll face? “What about you and Eren? You’re always so close to him, like a lost puppy.” it's creepy.

“I’ve known Eren most my life. He’s my closest friend and companion. I have no illusions of how I feel about Eren, I love him. Not as a lover of course, that would be weird. I love him the same was Mikasa loves me or Eren loves Mikasa. We’re family.” Armin rants confidently.

Well then. Not everyone can form such close bonds with people.

Again silence laps. There’s nothing to do in this dank hole except listen to people get sick and moan in agony and despair. Wish I knew what the fuck that crazy bastard has in store for us.

* * *

 

Be careful what you wish for, so the saying goes.

Kitt didn’t really _tell_ what he planned to do with us. He showed. Two women in the cell adjacent to mine had been very touchy with each other since being in here. I hadn’t thought anything of it, girls are just touchier with each other than men. It’s just how things are and I didn’t see a problem with it, no one else did either. Kitt thought otherwise. He saw them as lovers – which maybe they were.

They were taken kicking and screaming while the people of their cell tried to beat back the guards that were sent. Of course more men from Kitt’s side where called down to help, so now the cell has two less people and several more with bruises.

We didn’t see them again till they came for us for our daily exercise.

If I had anything in my stomach I would have vomited.

The girls where tied to the mast, backs a shredded mess. It has been a few hours since they were taken, long enough that flies have begun to gather and blood has turned to coagulated jelly. Pieces of skin hang precariously. I don’t know if they’re breathing. I’m suddenly very glad Marco is too ill to move, he would flip his shit at this sight.

A sudden cold fear washes over me. This is what will happen if me and Marco are caught. I can’t hold him anymore. Not unless we want to live, and I like living very much.

Our walk is stopped with Kitt’s order as walks closer to us, boots sound hollow and loud as he makes his way around the girls and paces in front of his lined up prisoners. He mutters low before announcing his words.

“You! Are all sinners!” he screams. He looks every person in the eye. More than half the people have no idea what he said, anyone who tries to translate are hit till they shut up. He finally stops before me, for some reason he stares longer at me than most everyone else. His first longest stare was at Armin, dwarfed between the walls of muscle that are Reiner and Bertholdt.

Sweat broke the moment I saw the girls, but the knees didn’t start knocking till Kitt huffed his way to stare at ever defiant Eren. At least that prick has enough constraint to not outright growl at our foe. Does he know? Does Kitt know my weird relationship with Marco? Has someone blabbed about me taking care of him?

The inspection – if you can call it that – is cut short with one of the girls waking up. Oh god. She screams bloody murder, and in a way, it is. The girl continues to scream while the second one begins to awaken. She doesn’t scream, she sobs. Kitt finishes his staring contest with Levi to motion for a large bald man with a whip (I’ve been told) called the Cat. I’ve seen Marco’s, it’s clean and has several knots in each tail, so to make each hit more painful I suppose. The one that the Bo‘sun (…? I think that’s what the disciplinarian on a ship is called…) holds is caked in blood, sunlight glints off the knots as if something sharp was inside the rope fibers. Is that even legal?

“The harlots are still breathing. Why is that?” it’s the first time I’ve heard Kitt speak a normal volume. He still holds his panicked wide-eyed stare with his brown weathered face permanently stuck into a look of horror and it makes him look even crazier.

Instead of the man answering, he grunts and raises the whip to strike the women. A gasp follows around us, I close my eyes and look away. There’s no way I can look at that, I have enough nightmares as it is.

“Wait!” Kitt yells.

The man waits.

We all wait.

I cautiously look back up. I see several people have the same reaction.

Kitt was waiting for that, for he signals for the hit to take place. I barely get my eyes closed before the strike hits flesh. While we can close our eyes, we can’t close our ears. It’s like the sound of slapping uncooked meat. Bile rises but I swallow it down. Several are unsuccessful.

It goes on and on till the screams of one are nothing but sobs and the sobs of the other cease but lay limp against her bonds. I’ve never wished someone dead before – not seriously – but for these two I wish for death. No man would want them now. The pain they’ll endure for months and years later will be far greater than anything they could possibly imagine. That is, if they survive thost horrid injuries, which is very unlikely.

Finally, the wet smacks stop and we’re forced to once again gaze upon the ground meat of what was once two women.

Kitt doesn’t say anything to us. He screams at his crew to throw them away and to take us down. As we’re turned away, the splash penetrates over the clanking of our shackles. Another splash sends us into the belly of the ship.

People – I don’t know who – begin to struggle and cursing Kitt and all who follow him to hell. Since we’re all connected by our chains, I’m pulled and pushed as the tiny munity is vanquished. Great, add sore wrists and ankles to the long list of health issues I’m acquiring.

Eventually they get us down there, no breakfast for us. Punishment for acting bratty one of them said. So be it, not like it was good anyway. As I’m pushed in, I try so move so I get a different cell than the one Marco is in, but it goes unsuccessful for the guard thinks I’m trying to escape and ends up throwing me in. Damn.

I need to stay as far away from Marco as possible. He’s too out of it to understand what is going on, he’ll want to be held and coed at, something only a woman can do now. The far corner is clean so I shove myself into it and stay there, even after Marco calls for me.

We can’t.

* * *

 

Marco’s fever dissipates. He still claims to be dizzy, but he’s no longer a corpse. Reiner, through the bars, tells Marco what’s been going on. Throughout their talk Marco kept glancing my way, as if he was sad I wasn’t near. He probably is, but I’m not going to end up like those girls.

Night slams down on us like someone blew out the candles. One moment there was faint orange light peeking through the hall, the next it was pitch as black. This is usually the time where people start sitting down for the night, no use standing and wasting energy. But this time the darkness comes at such a shock that people stumble over each other and I’m forced to stand or otherwise be trampled. Perhaps they shut the hatch? Fuck. I wish these ass hats had a slaver’s ship, then there wouldn’t be no cells, just big emptiness. We’d probably be chained to the wall though.

“Jean.” A whisper right next my ear, so close I can feel the breath ghost by. “Sorry.” Marco says to my flinch.

“What?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” he sounds hurt.

“Because I don’t want to end up like those girls, now go away.”

He doesn’t leave. Marco just leans back with me close enough where our arms brush against each other. “We won’t.” I can do nothing but snort being that he probably can’t see my scowl. “Really, I have a feeling we’ll be alright.”

I really hate Marco. His optimism is worse than Eren’s impossible ideals. Worse than Kitt’s creepiness, worse than my own sourness at life.

“The guard wears the keys, maybe we can steal them and get away.” Marco whispers. The noise of everyone else is dying down now that the shock of night has worn off. I’ll be able to sit down again soon.

“And crawl out of a lion’s den? There are hundreds of them and maybe eighty of us. We’ll never make it. There has been at least five deaths since we got in here. Two more today.” Kitt’s going to eventually let us all waste away down here, or else find some inane reason to whip us to death.

Marco makes a pained noise, a noise that clearly states I’m right.

“Marco… do you always get sick like that? When you’re away from your ship this long…” I ask hoping he’ll stop with his dumb plans.

“Yeah. I think so. It’s just me getting used to land again… I don’t know.” Marco trails off at the end, lost, as if he realized something. He sighs and I feel his shoulder rub down my arm, bump into my hip and continue to drag across my leg till he finally sits. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

A plan suddenly forms. I crouch down till my head is level to his. “I can get off the ship.” I whisper as softly as I can into his ear. His head turns, my lips brush against his head.

“Wha- how?”

“It might not work though… I can pick locks. If there’s a pin or a knife, something that can be used to pick locks. I can jump ship if we’re close to land or another ship… I can maybe unlock other people… perhaps the chaos can let a few get away…” that’s as far as I go. It has so many missing variables. I can get caught. The ship may not be willing to help. The land may not be useful.

“I… don’t know…” Marco says after a beat.

“I know.” Defeated I sit next to him. Who even has a pin anyway? Maybe one of the girls… it can’t hurt to ask around.

My legs ache badly. Not enough exercise perhaps. Being cramped in here with literal no leg room has to be the reason. When – _if_ – we get out of here I’m going to start those ballet stretches again. Ballet always made me feel good about myself. Never did any shows, but I did the dances and the stretches with everyone else. Auntie loved that, she’d never let me preform though. I knew why, I was too fat. But she said it was because I was too young. Bullshit considering half the dancers were younger than I was. I miss her. Along with everyone else.

A heavy weight suddenly falls onto my shoulder, followed by soft snoring. How long have I been in my own head for Marco to fall asleep? I suppose his head on my shoulder isn’t too gay… there’s hardly room to not be touching someone in some way anyway… maybe they won’t notice… I’ll just move when light comes. Yeah.

Sweat beads down. This is fine. No one will say anything… no one said anything about those girls either, they just came for them…

I stand too fast, getting light headed on the way up and having to hold onto the bars for balance. Marco lands with a loud thump and a curse. “What the heck Jean.” He grumbles. The sound of clothing being shuffled stops after a moment.

No apologies are made as I shuffle away from Marco and into my corner, thankfully uninhabited. There I curl up and close lids to the darkness. Sorry Marco, but my life is worth so much more than your comfort.

* * *

 

Being jolted awake by people slamming things against the bars is an awful way to wake up. But food is here, or what passes for food. The food is grey stuff which I don’t bother eating. Instead I lean over and stick my arms through the bars to smoke. It’s my last match, gotta make this cigarette count.

They guy who brings and takes our food leers at me. It’s a creepy leer. A leer saved for women and men at sea too long. Fucking nasty. He comes closer, sauntering over like he some damn prized pony. He comes close, too close for any sort of comfort. He’s got muddy green eyes and dirty blonde hair, a fair face that might have been pale at one point. He’s pretty but the smile he sports shows brown teeth.

“How ‘bout I get that pretty bottom of yours out of this here cage and I can make it worth your while.” He says, some sort of strange American accent slipping through.

“No thanks. You’re not my type.” I take a drag out of my cigarette, god this feels wrong. Is my butt really pretty? I’ve lost count of how many men have told me that. I’ve always thought it to be flat and trying to find pants to flatter it exhausting. Too bad this ego booster is working for the wrong guy.

He reaches in for me in front of everyone and I’m at a loss. I lean back so he can’t catch any part of me. “A pretty thing like you gotta be good for something.” I’m starting to understand why women loath men.

“I said no thanks. Get the fuck away from me.” I flick my wrist in a disinterested way. He catches it.

“Oh come on sugar-” he pulls me closer. Oh hell no. “Now that’s more like it-” he dissolves into a scream that has everyone who weren’t paying attention before pay attention now as I had put my cigarette out on his cheek. I was aiming for his eye. With his shirt collar in my fists I slam him into the bars. It doesn’t abate my fury. What part of ‘no’ don’t assholes understand? Pushing him away and watching him screech as he falls is more satisfactory than that smoke.

“…Asshole.” I don’t know what else to say, this is probably going to get me in trouble.

The other men had watched the whole thing. They laugh as he falls and pick him up and drag him off. The last remaining guy picks up the rest of the bowls and leaves without a word.

I’ve got a bad feeling about today.

“Jean, are you okay?” Marco squeezes himself next to me.

“Yeah.” I guess. “Hey Marco?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever call me sugar.” Something about that name just makes my skin crawl.

“No problem.” Marco smiles at me. How can he act like nothing’s up? God I want to deck him in that ridiculously square jaw of his.

* * *

 

Somehow Marco came up with three pins and handed them to me. “It’s the only plan we got.” He said.

So I spend the hours locking and unlocking the shackles attached to the wall of our cell. Mikasa saw me do it and asked if I could teach her. I’ve never been so flustered in my life. But I did it, the best I could anyway. I’m no teacher and her being so close, watching so intently while Marco quietly seethed on the other side of the cell had me so very distracted.

Mikasa ends up teaching other people, and soon enough there’s at least a dozen people who can lock pick fast enough to be worth something. There isn’t enough pins for everyone.

“What’s so great about her anyway?” Marco mumbles.

“She’s beautiful, strong, smart, caring-” I start to list. Marco shouldn’t have said that, I can go all day about how great Mikasa is.

“And I’m not?” Marco interrupts crossing his arms and pouts in the other direction.

Wait a minute. “Are you jealous?” oh my god. He is. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone jealous for me before… it’s kind of exhilarating.

“Of course not.” There’s still a pout.

“Marco… I guess you are, but… men aren’t really my type… sex is fun sure… but I can’t marry him, raise a family. And nothing beats a pussy.” I keep my voice low lest someone hear.

“Yes you can.” Marco insists. “There are hundreds of orphans to choose from.”

“But it won’t be _mine_. Besides, what do you care?”

“I don’t see myself settling down with a girl. Not really. I’m pretty sure I’m in an arranged marriage though. That might be my brother. If I had a choice I wouldn’t settle down, but I’d have kids. Lots of them, all living on a farm happy and healthy.” Marco says dreamily.

“You’ll need a woman to keep them Marco.”

“No you don’t. A man can be just as good a mother as a woman can. Just as a woman can make a father.”

Bullshit. Marco refuses to hear reason.

They come a few minutes later to hoard us out for air. When we go out there we’re in for another shock. The dirty blond harasser from yesterday is strung up like a puppet. His skin has gone from a golden tan to an ash grey. How long has he been hung for? It’s now obvious that Kitt doesn’t even tolerate that shit from his own crew. Fuck, why don’t these people leave this crazy asshole?

Kitt does his creepy eye contact inspection with everyone again. And again he spends too much time on Levi, Eren, Armin, and I. We got something he likes or something? Maybe he’s just trying to combat his own homosexual impulses by taking it out on innocents.

Kitt stops in front of Marco again.

“What do you want Captain?” Marco asks politely.

Kitt draws back like he hadn’t thought it possible for someone to talk _to_ him. “Rumor has it. That you are trying to eliminate me.” He growls.

“That’s a silly rumor.” Marco shakes his head. “I always thought we were friends.”

“Really now? And firing at me was a sign of friendship?” Kitt draws up to his full height. He isn’t much taller than Marco. In fact I think he might be shorter than Marco. Kitt is wearing heeled boots while Marco is in his silk slippers.

Being reminded that a lot of these people are bare of feet or in slippers makes me glad I found my boots and wore them. Wish my foot would stop throbbing.

“You shot first. Why is that?”

Past Kitt’s shoulder I spot it. A ship. My heart starts to pound. Marco, bless his soul, lets his eyes follow where mine is trained for the briefest of moments before engaging Kitt in further conversation.

“Captain, would it be possible to discuss this situation in privacy. Captain to captain?” Marco pleads. He’s using his big brown eyes, doubtful it will work on Kitt though.

“I think not.” Kitt goes to spin around but Marco grabs his elbow. It gives me the opportunity to dig into my pockets for the pins. Luck must be on our side for they forgone the ankle shackles today.

“Surely there must be something we can discuss.” Perhaps Kitt really is trying to suppress his homosexuality. The way he swallows and follows Marco’s hand as he purposefully drags it down the other man’s arm is definitely a sign. Christ man, just suck it up and roll with it. It’s what I did.

“Filth! Trying to tempt me!” Kitt roars. It startles me so badly I almost drop the pins. Marco jumps too.

“Tempt? What are you talking about? I only want a civil conversation about the release of my crew! You have murdered a few of my good men! I want that to end!” Marco’s tone is firm. Stall, Marco, stall.

Kitt’s eyes narrow. “Very well.” He motions for our jailers to take us down. “Bring the China-boy to my cabin when the rest are secure!” he shouts before storming off.

“Marco are you nuts!?” Connie trembles, “He’ll kill you! Or-or worse.”

“It’ll be fine Connie, I promise.” Marco pats him on the shoulder.

Heart still pounds, rattling hard against my chest. There was a ship. Is it still there? Who is it? Is it people who can help? Please. Please. Pleeeease, I don’t know how much of this crazy shit I can take. I can’t get away right now, I’ll have to wait till they take Marco away. The pins get shoved back into my pockets before anyone can see what I was up to.

Marco is harshly dragged back out, his wrists still clad in irons. The cell door is slammed shut so loud it leaves a ringing sound that echoes throughout the hull. I wait till it’s near silent before jamming the pins into the cell lock. It’s hard doing this backwards.

“What are you doing?” Bertholdt stage whispers.

“I saw a ship. I’m going to swim for it. Shit.” one of the pins break. Okay, calm down. You’re shaking too much, easy now.

“Are you crazy?” Eren yells in a whisper. “You’ll get caught or eaten by the bull sharks!”

“He’s right.” Bertholdt says, he’s stooped over, I guess so he can talk a little more privately to me. Whatever, I don’t have time for this.

“I have to do this now while Marco has the captain occupied.” I grunt. There’s a satisfying click before the door swings open. The door squeals. It makes us all cringe and wait a few seconds for anyone to come investigate.

No one does.

I slip out a smoothly as I can.

“Jean, what about the rest of us?” Armin asks.

The door is almost shut on the people of my cell when Armin’s question stops the action. “I don’t have time… I’ll leave the door open, but you guys have to figure out the rest. I need to get to that ship.” Something about that ship in the horizon looked familiar. If it wasn’t some hunger/fear induced hallucination, we’re saved.

“You’re fucking crazy. This will never work.” Eren mumbles. He can shut his whore mouth.

“Got a better idea asshat?”

He snorts but says nothing. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“Just wait a bit before you all get out, I need a little time before your chaos blows it.” Just before I can creep out of the holding area, Mikasa grasps my arm.

“Be careful Jean.” She says letting go and giving me a gentle nod. It takes everything in me not to start giggling like a little school girl. I rush out to hide my flamed face. Mikasa told me to be careful! She cares about me! Oh gosh! Are those wedding bells I here? No, they're watch bells.

Smiling like a love struck idiot is probably the worst way to get caught on this ship. Okay. The job. Right. Yes. It take more time than it should to recompose myself. There’s still a blush painted on as I sneak into the hall.

The light down this far isn’t enough to commit detail to memory so finding the way back up is hard without someone to lead you. I find way more dead ends and scare many rats finding the right hallway than I want to.

No more than a dozen minutes tick by before I find the right stairs and crawl up them pausing at every loud groan and squeal the old boards give. The hatch is closed, through the gaps and holes golden light shines. Purposefully I stare at it, hoping the little light will be enough not to blind me when I get the courage to open the thing.

Voices are suddenly _right there_. Boots thunk and the hinges cry out as they open it. I barely have enough time to dive under the stairs before blinding light comes in. The curse I let out as I land on my ankle wrong is drowned out by heavy footfall. I shove myself into the cobwebbed corner holding my mouth so they can’t hear the panicked breaths and praying they don’t see me. They don’t even glance back nor shut the hatch as they hobble off something about liquor in the conversation. I can’t hear their exact words through the pounding of my heart and the sudden loudness of the outside world.

I wait and listen, letting my eyes get use the light before trying to get out a second time. The storage closet is farther down, it will take a few minutes to get to and back, more if they argue about what to get. Being crouched down waiting for an opening hurts my calves more than it normally should.

How many days have we been down there?

Hunger shakes my body, it’s been like this for at least three walk abouts. The food isn’t edible anymore, not by a long shot. Those why try merely get sick afterward. Probably food poisoning.

Finally, I stand and rush to the nearest shadow I can find. There’s a hat lying on the barrel I hide next to. The too big hat gets jammed onto my head, it does its job of hiding most my face and creating a shadow over the rest. This should be enough to hide who I am if I need to go out in the open.

Need to get somewhere where I can look about. Try and find that ship.

Suddenly, several things happen at once.

There’s a roar from below.

There’s canon fire from this ship that causes me to land on my ass.

People burst like ants from a drowned hill out of the hatch I had just exited.

There’s answering canon fire from afar.

I need to get to high ground. Away from this madness, I could hide up there… maybe… no one ever looks up…

Going out in the open is a mistake.

A man makes a grab at me but I’m able to dodge just in time, for another man is knocked into him. The both of them get knocked to the ground right where I was standing just a second before.

There is no way into the lines from here. _Move_.

It has become an all-out brawl. People are simply hitting each other, no one is actually trying to escape nor trying to get the prisoners back down stairs. Pent up energy release perhaps? A distraction? Doesn’t matter. There’s the ship.

My heart leaps, summersaults, and dives. The ship!

“Aw fuck!” my back collides heavily into a mast so forcefully that my head whips back to bounce off it. Fuck. What the hell? Arms have encircled my waist and apparently pile drove me into the nearest vertical surface.

“Get off!” this man is stronger by leaps and bounds for I can’t get his hands off me. Someone else barrels into him and he’s forced to let go, but not before I feel most my organs get shoved into my chest cavity. Shit.

The hat falls off.

What the fuck ever, it’s not like I need it now anyway.

I scramble from the floor and climb onto the railing where I can start to get to the top.

“What the bloody hell is going on here!?” Kitt comes screaming out on deck. Tearing through people with Marco being forcefully tugged behind him. Marco’s shirt is ripped across his chest in way that suggests Kitt did it to see more of it. Marco’s slippers are missing and Kitt’s belt it undone. Even from way back here I can see how swollen Marco’s lips are. I feel sick. I didn’t really think about what Marco would do to keep Kitt occupied.

“Grab them! Kill them all! I don’t care-”

“NO!” Marco yells out, his iron clad wrists clanking as he grabs Kitt’s shirt. “You can’t!”

He’s thrown to the floor.

I can’t stall any longer, the ship is turning away.

I get as high as I dare and jump.

“Shoot him!”

“Stop!”

The water is cold.

The height got me far but the shock of hitting the surface leaves me disoriented. Dimly through the mucky water I can see a dark blur near the surface. Hoping it’s not a whale, or worse, a hungry shark looking for an easy meal I swim for it, hard and fast. It takes forever. So long every inch of me aches fiercely. I’ve swallowed so much water it’s weighing me down just as bad as the fatigue.

My head greets the ship.

Voices are shouting for rope.

Rope is thrown over. Everything is swimming in circles making gripping the rope hard to achieve. Whoever is up top seem to realize the half dead guy down there isn’t climbing so they begin to pull on the rope. Arms shake so bad that by the time I reach the top I nearly topple over having to have someone grab an arm as I flail backwards. The person who pulls me non to kindly off the railing is a woman. Short blonde hair and large ice blue eyes. She’s short and busty. Fuck I know her… what was her name?

“Care to explain why Marco’s ship is captain-less and your rotten carcass is on my ship?” Ymir growls a gun pointed directly at my head.

Black dots begin to fill the sudden brightness of it all.

“Fucking Kitt.” Is all I manage to say before ungracefully collapsing onto the hard wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, i'm not sure where the plot is going??? like the next chapter will be a little about marcos pov w/ kitt and go into some plot development? I know how it will end, it's just getting there that's the issue.


	30. It's Fine. Probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's side.
> 
> Jean get's another bird.
> 
> Bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like, I kept opening the document and then forgetting it was open and that's mostly the reason why this took so long...lol. the other reasons is i'd hit inspiration and then hydro plane into a brick wall in the middle of typing. I thought this was going to be the last chapter, but it isn't. I don't know what i'm doing anymore tbh.
> 
> Edit: I KKEP FORGETTING TO ADD THIS! I was supposed to do it like 2 chapters ago but I forgot! magickko of tumblr made fanart! magickko.tumblr.com/post/134987529800/fanart-of-oceans-away-by-menstralcycling-which

The harsh way they tug me back up the stairs and into the maze of corridors to Kitt’s chambers is really unnecessary. The skin around the shackles have been rubbed red and sting where they have cut into flesh.

I can’t know if the other ship still lingers for the hatch they shove me through is on the other side of the ship and therefore not in a good enough vantage point to see.

Kitt’s cabin is up top, partially hidden beneath stairs. I like mine better, it was supposed to be for storage but it’s bigger than the one designated for the captain and felt more secure. The man leading me pounds on the door, it rattles. The other men having parted ways as soon as they were outside. I can’t help but notice how empty this part of the deck is.

Kitt wrenches the door open poised to shout at whoever interrupt him, but stops short upon seeing me. “Get back. To work.” He must have something wrong with his speech to always talk this way. “Get in here.” Kitt takes the chain connecting the shackles from the man, who scurries away, and yanks me hard enough that I stumble inside nearly falling.

The door slams and clicks locked and I get shoved against it.

“…Um.” What do I say? This is all so new to me. “S-so, why exactly did you capture us?”

Kitt backs up, about faces, and walks away, not answering. He picks up a knocked over chair and rights it, he pushes another chair toward the table. While he does his thing I take the time to look around, relaxing only enough that my shoulders aren’t pressed into my ears anymore.

It’s dark in here. My room is dark too, but it only has one window and is below decks. This room is top deck and has an entire wall dedicated to a window, but it’s covered with large thick curtains. They look to be a rust red. They’re nice… I suppose. A bed – unmade and sheets smudged with… stuff it could be because it’s dark and the shadows are playing tricks.) – on the right side. A desk on the left. The entire room smells like old booze and maybe a little like a dead animal.

A pathetic caw sends my attention to a dark corner far from the window. On a pile of books and possibly a barrel, lies a cage. And in that cage is a red parrot. A sad thing, feathers litter the cage floor and it appears dirty and just all together pathetic. It caws again, louder this time.

“Shut up. You stupid. Filthy bird.” Kitt growls at the poor thing.

“Perhaps some sunlight will quiet it down?” I suggest. A murderous look is sent my way. “I mean, he doesn’t look so good, and birds like the sunlight-” Kitt pounds his way toward me. I back into the door unsure of what’s going to happen. Instead of getting hit like I expected, he simply takes the shackles and roughly guides me to the table.

“Sit.” I do so, no need to anger him further. “Drink.” He orders again handing me a glass of discolored liquid. Smells like rum. I don’t like rum.

“No thank you, I‘m not a fan of his particular drink.” I set it down. He snorts and gulps his drink in one go. “So, about this… situation. What are you going to do with us? Sell us? Collect any bounties we may have? Ransom? Your motives are very unclear.”

“You didn’t come here to talk.” Kitt accuses leaning over. Maybe if he wasn’t old enough to be my father and he wasn’t so creepy he would be handsome. He probably had nice eyes at one point.

“I wanted to speak about the release of myself and my crew.” Why else would I be in here?

He sneers. I’m surprised he has such white teeth. Hardly anyone I know his age have nice teeth. Even my dad’s were starting to have a permanent yellow the last time I saw him. “I see the way you look at men. Especially that one with the long face and haughty attitude. The small blonde boy’s a mighty cutie. Oh, and the wild kid,” here Kitt pours himself another drink smirking, “he’d be fun to tame.”

“I don’t follow. Listen, you have to let us go, we’ve done nothing to you to warrant this abuse.” I have a bad feeling about this. This uneasiness isn’t helping how dizzy I still am. Lying to Jean about my health was a necessary evil, he wouldn’t let me go out if he knew. And I couldn’t stand being down below there for so long.

“You fucking queer!” Kitt shouts in a sudden rage. He and I jump out of our chairs, sending them to the floor with overly loud thuds. “I’ll teach you!” he grabs for me but I hop away, not before he catches my shirt. He yanks hard enough that is tears. Next thing I know I’m bent over the table, face slammed into the rough wood. I can feel my lips bruise.

I try to get up, kick, wiggle, anything to get him off; but he’s strong, so strong and has my arms forced behind my head. I hear a belt buckle.

“What are you doing? Stop! You’re not thinking rationally!”

“Sinner’s get punished.” Kitt grunts.

My foot connects with his thigh, he makes a pained noise but doesn’t let go, though his grip is lose enough for me to turn around to face him.

Mistake. Instant regret.

“So. You like it like this?”

“Get off.” Panic is starting to set in. He can’t be rationalize with. What was I thinking? “Please, by doing this you’re just being- it’s not- I’m not the one hiding his preferences for men!” I shout. Kitt pauses trying to undo his pants to slap me across the face. I sends me to the ground.

“I! Am no! Sodomite!” he bends over to grab me shaking me like a doll.

Suddenly, many things happen at once.

A loud bang send us both to the floor, Kitt lands heavily on top of me – and while I’m no stranger to be landed upon as such, this is no situation that can be enjoyed. Another distant boom echoes through the cabin. And a sudden loud noise of many people fighting and screaming at once. A riot if you will.

Kitt starts muttering curses standing up pulling me hard enough to nearly rip my arms out of their sockets and tugging me along with him as he kicks his locked door open like it was paper. “What the bloody hell is going on here!?”

Outside is a mess.

It’s a full out brawl. My people are in fist fights with his people. People and on each other’s backs. There are pistols going off left and right. And above it all is Jean trying to climb into the upper working of the ship. Why? I don’t see a ship- wait, is that? Breathing picks up and my heart hammers. What are you doing Jean? Get to the railing, jump!

“Stop! I command you!” Kitt screams over everything else. No one pays attention. I try to get away but his death grip on the chain makes it impossible. He spots Jean. “Grab them! Kill them all! I don’t care-”

“NO!” I grab his shirt like he did mine earlier, “You can’t!”

He throws me to the floor.

“Shoot him!” Kitt yells as Jean jumps for it. Oh I see now, he needed distance.

Wait, what? No!

Kitt has his gun aimed right at Jean, “Stop!” I jump onto Kitt’s back maneuvering so the chains are around his neck. I’ve never done this before, I hope this works.

The gun goes off but Jean is nowhere to be seen.

He chokes and sputters trying to throw me, scratch me anything to get me off, but I won’t let go.

Somehow he falls to his knees and I once again get pinned under his weight this time it’s because he’s passed out or dead, I can’t tell and he’s _heavy_. He shouldn’t _be_ this heavy. Get off. Get off. _Get off_. With a great push he rolls off, only taking me with him because the chain is still around his neck.

Chaos still rages and I’m stuck. This is the worst.

“Don’t move.” I flinch seeing a pistol aimed right at me, but it’s Levi and he shoots the chain that connects the wrists. I’m free… sorta, I still have the shackles, I can just move my hands freely now.

“Did Jean make it?” I can’t see, is that ship getting closer? Is… is that _Ymir’s_ ship!?

“Appears so.” Levi answers dryly.

Closer and closer the ship comes and it becomes apparent that it is Ymir’s ship and not mine. Either way, I’m so happy I could cry. Ymir jumps over and starts slicing people up. She gets to me and I’m a little nervous. She takes one look at me and says “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” Shell shocked, I stand there like an idiot while her girls clean up the mess. Twenty minutes barely pass before only our men stand. Kitt’s being slaughtered or else surrendered I don’t care.

* * *

 

I feel grubby and itchy but at least Jean is okay. Ymir said he passed out, woke up a few minutes later, drank some water, took a quick bath and then passed out again in the tub. She also made it a point to complain about having to fish out a soggy foreigner out of her bathtub. She is very much like Jean in the whining department. How could I have not seen it before?

Jean isn’t likely to wake up anytime soon, so I might as well bathe myself.

If only I had my ship.

* * *

 

“Marco? Are you in here?” Krista’s voice echoes.

“Yes. In the bath.”

Krista rounds the corner and smiles. She’s wearing a pink tunic and black tight fitting pants with equally pink slippers. Her hair in a loose pony tail, yellow bangs swishing about her head. She suddenly looks apprehensive.

“…Listen. Marco. I wanted to speak to you in private. If… that’s alright?” she asks stopping a few feet from the tub.

“Okay.” I say. I was about to get out anyway. “Let me get dressed first.”

Krista nods and turns around politely so I can stand and hide behind the change screen.

“It’s about, us…” she sighs, “I know, what happened in the past was…bad, and there’s no way to fix or apologize for how it happened. I just wanted to let you know that we’re sorry. We didn’t mean for it to go so far.”

Behind the change screen my fists clench and unclench. “You two raped me.” There I said it. The horrible word I’ve been avoiding since the beginning. I feel… better somehow. Like saying it lifts a heavy weight off my shoulders.

“Yes, we did.” Krista whispers. I’m surprised she’s admitted that. “At first you were very cooperative and eager. Then you just, started…” Krista doesn’t seem to know where she’s going with her words.

“I wanted to go home. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t understand, so I thought I could run away.” I nearly fall over trying to get pants on, they catch and stick to my still wet skin. Probably should have grabbed a towel.

“Is there any way that perhaps we can… move on. Somehow?” Krista startles me by being in front of me as my head goes through the neck of the shirt. “Sorry.”

“That’s all I’ve been trying to do.” I look down at her, not quite understanding how I could have been so afraid of someone so damn _tiny_. If it weren’t for her breasts and hair children don’t have, she could be just that. A fragile child.

As for Ymir, she’s just scary. But she loves just as hard as everybody else I suppose.

“Listen Marco. We- Me and Ymir do love you. Very much. We just didn’t want to let you go, and it made you hate us. I’m so sorry. When you stopped responding, we thought we broke you. I was so horrified at what we did.” She takes my hand and pats it.

“I just wanted to go home.” I repeat. Everything is so confusing. I need a vacation.

“Have you been? Home I mean?” Krista wipes her eyes of unshed tears.

“…N-no, not really. I built a house near the village, but I haven’t gotten the courage to visit.” Krista nods as if she understands. “And my father can read, so I write as often as I can.”

“You should really visit. Tell them, tell them you were kidnapped by the pirates and, oh I don’t know, gained their favor so now you are an honest merchant.” Krista says smiling.

“I can’t lie to my mother. She’d beat me.” I laugh.

“What would she do if she found out you’re a pirate though?”

“I don’t know.” Shrugging I step around her. “Jean should be waking up by now and I’m awfully hungry for something that isn’t moldy grease. Is Song still the cook?”

Krista loops her arm with mine. “Yes. I’ll let her know we have some very hungry men eager for a woman’s cooking.”

We part ways, Krista to the kitchen and me to the room Ymir dumped Jean. It’s a side room inside Ymir’s cabin, a large closet with a window. It was my room once upon a time. It’s got cushioned couches that line the perimeter of the room and nice plush beige carpeting.

“Why am I naked?” Jean says to his lap, he’s lifted the blankets to peer at himself.

“Ymir claims to have fished you out of the bath. Clothes are next to you.” I tell him.

Jean jumps pulling the blanket to cover his chest. “Did everyone make it out?” he asks softly. “Everything is like a drunken haze.”

“Yes. You’re plan worked.”

Jean slumps back onto the couch with a soul heaving sigh. He gets up eventually to put on some clothes.

“I can’t believe you sucked Kitt’s dick for a distraction.” Jean laughs dryly dancing into some pants.

“What?” I’m going through a chest in the room. It’s full of cloth. “No I didn’t. He tried to rape me. Lucky that riot broke out, otherwise…” I trail off. This chest used to have my cloths in it. These are not my clothes.

“Oh. You still have those shackles. Let me get them off.” Jean leaves and I can hear him ransack the lady’s room.

Oh. I’ve forgotten about them. How could I have forgotten about these iron menaces? The metal is almost heavy and the chains sway with every movement. “Jean, don’t make a mess. We are guests!” Jean mumbles something I can’t catch. He comes back with decorative pins. They look like chopsticks but are metal and carved with vines of some sort.

“These will do.” He mutters and drags me to the window.

“You better clean up your mess. The last thing we need is mad hosts.” Chastising him never works, when will I learn?

Jean gives me an arrogant look and snatches my hand none too kindly. He shoves the shirt sleeve up to my elbow and jams the metal chopstick in the locking mechanism. Jean then jiggles it around almost violently.

“Are you angry Jean?” I ask of him.

“Of fucking course I’m angry. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t. First I’m fat. No one wants to play with the fat kid that dances girly dances,” he mocks with another violent jab. “My own aunt doesn’t want me to ruin her image. My fucking sister kills herself. My dad dies of some fucking disease those German pricks brought with them. Then it takes my mother. I nearly die in a fucking storm on the way to the _magical fucking_ ,” another jab that has me wincing in pain, “East. You exist for some fucking reason and I get nearly raped by several nasty ass people here. Nearly die several more times in your company and now we fucking probably owe Ymir shit. Shit!” Jean throws the bent pin thing across the room and places his head in his hands. I rub my sore wrists.

I’m not exactly sure what to say. “Jean. Calm down.” I’m not sure if that is even the right thing to say but it must be for Jean sighs and leans back till his head thumps the window.

“Sorry. I’m just. I hate my life so fucking much. I’m no saint by Jesus Christ I deserve better than this.” Jean closes his eyes takes a deep shuddering breath and takes my hand again. The remaining pin gets shoved back into the lock more carefully.

“After repairs are done to my ship, if my ship still floats that is, I’ll disband everyone and we can have a nice season away. You’ll love my house. It has plenty of backyard space for your peacock and Filou would love the koi pond. The nearby village is small – only a few hundred people – but it is peaceful and the rice fields are very beautiful.” The shackle clicks open and I don’t hesitate to shake it off. He grasps the other hand. “And there’s a forest that surrounds the rice fields and protects the village. The air is always clean and snow doesn’t get so deep there.”

“What makes you think I’ll go with you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he can’t see me blinking at him.

Jean shrugs.

We are silent for another few minutes and the last shackle clicks open. My wrists are red and hold ugly red lines where the metal had cut into skin. Jean inspects my wrists. His are red as well, but don’t cut into skin like mine.

“I suppose having a roof over my head during the cold season won’t be so bad.” Jean breaks the silence at last.

* * *

 

My ship… is in bad shape. Bertholdt, who has been helping Ymir’s men with the repairs (how much do I owe her now?) says there’s day and night pumping. There’s three or more canon holes at the water line that can’t be repaired in open waters. The sails are ripped, ropes need replacing, and railings need sanding. Everything is a mess and we’re at least a week from China. Two weeks to the dock I camp at when time is needed.

This is such a mess.

Ymir claims she’ll help. It’s the least she can do, or so she says.

Until we get to Hong Kong, we inch across the sea to my home country with Ymir and the _Bound_ inching along with us. Krista says I get first dibs in anything on Kitt’s ship. Which is what I’m doing right now. Pillaging Kitt’s room with Jean to make myself feel better. )t’s not working as well as I’d hoped).

“So, what’s the plan?” Jean asks carding through a stack of books.

“We’ll stop by a small city near my home village for a few months and when the season is good again we can sail once more. Most people will be disbanded in Hong Kong where we will make the most serious repairs and the rest can be done at home.”

“And where is ‘home’?” Jean stands upon hearing the sad parrot caw pathetically.

“Shanghai, we walk or catch a merchant or maybe I’ll get a palanquin, to my house.” I answer shifting through the maps on the old captain’s desk. I already have most of them.

“I’m taking the bird.” Jean announces. He picks up the bent sour smelling cage. The bird inside flails sending dulled feathers everywhere.

“Leave it. It’s not healthy.” The last thing any of us need is to catch a sickness from a bird.

“I know how to take care of sick birds Marco. My mom had a pair of love birds. One died and the remaining bird started to look like this one. It’s just stressed. Needs some love and care is all.” Jean brings the cage closer to the light and the parrot hides behind its ratty wing, peeking out from behind it like it hadn’t looked directly into the light in a long while.

The set of his jaw tells me he already has his mind set and I won’t be able to change his mind. “Alright.”

“Come on pretty bird, let’s get you cleaned up.” Jean picks up some other things and walks out.

* * *

 

When I come back to my ship, Jean has a basin of warm water sitting on the desk near the window. All the things that were on it before are in a haphazard pile under the window. The cage sits next to the basin with the door open. Jean is trying to coax it out, but the parrot isn’t moving.

“Try tempting him with some food.”

“I’ve tried.” Jean slumps. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, the scarf from days ago back around his neck. “Come on pretty bird.” Jean reaches in to gently grasp it.

It squawks and flails and bites but it must be too weak and featherless to fly or do any real damage. Jean ends up accidentally dropping it into the water. Water gets splashed everywhere till the bird calms down and settles into tentative preening.

“There you go pretty bird.” Jean sighs. “Do you know his name?”

“No. We should start packing. It will make it easier, once we get to Hong Kong there won’t be enough time to pack with having to help sail. Only a few stay till Shanghai.” I tell him.

Jean shrugs, “It’s not like I have anything that needs packing. Besides, my hands are full with him and Filou, I got to make sure he doesn’t attempt to eat Pretty Bird.”

I frown. That bird is a waste of effort. It’s too far gone to live a normal bird life. But I can’t tell that to Jean, and he seems to know what he’s doing. “Alright fine. Don’t get your hopes up about that bird though.” Jean gives me a searing look, not an angry one, but a look that says something like ‘don’t tell me what to do.’

Filou scampers in as I leave with Jean’s “It’s okay Pretty Bird, it’s just a little soap.” On second thought, I walk back in and scoop the cat off the floor. The last thing this room needs is feathers and blood.

Filou makes himself comfortable on my shoulders as I walk around and converse with crew members. Bertholdt quietly waits his turn, he appears sweatier that usual and a little more drawn in.

“Captain… we might have a problem…” he says timidly.

“What is it?” Filou bumps his head into my cheek, then jumps down.

“The rats, there’s so many and they’ve chewed up so much.” Bertholdt beckons me as he walks down into the hatch that leads to the deepest parts of the ship, “The cats are not… they are not enough I am afraid.” He leads the way deeper still, till we stand in the stairway to the deepest cargo hold.

“I’m not sure I understand Bertholdt, what about the poison Levi put down?”

Bertholdt shakes his head, “They… they, what’s the word, move around it. Some die, but others learn.” We light lanterns before we descend down the stairs. From up here you can hear the gnawing and the squeaking of the rats at work. It’s eerie and makes me want to go back up and forget this part of the ship exists.

“Look, here.” Bertholdt stops, I nearly run into him, and sets his lantern down carefully next to a hole that has been chewed open. It’s clear that someone has pried away some boards, probably so they can be replaced. “They chew hole through floor. There are so many, most are very small. This one biggest.”

“Rats chew through things, there’s nothing that can be done about that.” So there’s a few holes in the floor, so what?

“No. But that is not what worries me. See?” he kneels down beckoning me to do the same. He takes his lantern and holds it into the hole so I can see into the darkness. Rats scurry from the light. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be seeing. Two feet down there’s the keel. The literal backbone of the ship. Some water it in this air pocket, but that’s to be expected.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“See the chew marks?” he asks pointing a long finger to the wood. “I don’t think the rats know not to chew that.”

There’s bite marks all over the keel. But they are small and hardly worth all this fuss. But then again, who knows how long the rats have been at this and this is only one part of the ship. “Is there anything that can be done?” I ask fearing the worst.

Bertholdt is silent for a moment. He drags the lantern out of the hole and sits up. “Anything on a ship can be replaced. The rudder, the mast, the crew, railings, stairs, but not this. This is the- the spine; and it’s broken. There’s no mending that. And we do not know the true extent of the damage till we find a good port where we can raise her out of water.” Bertholdt stands dusting himself off.

“I’ll put in an order for a mass culling. One gold piece for every rat caught. Dead. It might help. Spread it around can you?” I say, I wonder if there’s even money to do that.

“I can.”

I head back up the stairs leaving the lantern on a hook there, Bertholdt might need it.

Heaven have mercy. What am I going to do? This ship is my _home_. This ship is so many of my friend’s home. I don’t know where they go when it’s time for land, but they always come back like they have nowhere else to go. Do they have houses like me? And what about my ship? I can’t lose him. He’s all I have.

I’ll have a talk with my people, get some advice. Damn. I already know what most of them will say. But I _can’t_ give up one this ship. It’s so special to me. He was my liberator. The only stability when nightmares came and people left. Being a captain of my own ship with only myself to order around helped me move on from the past. Helped me forget or at the very least, helped mend the pain of homesickness.

Jean asks why my eyes are red when I end up in our room. He’s gently drying the parrot with a soft towel. Cooing and reassuring the ugly thing that it’s alright. Wish he’d come over and do that to me. What does that bird have that I don’t?

Sigh. Pretty pathetic to be jealous of a bird Bodt.

“Is there a cage that isn’t shit on board?” Jean lets the bird go, placing him near a plate of fruit. The bird cautiously nibbles, a watchful eye on us both.

“Not that I know of. You can buy one in Hong Kong if you want.” I roll over to bury my face into the pillows. Can’t anything go right in my life for once?

A breeze whips by. Jean must have opened the window. A grunt and the sound of metal hitting wood. He must be dumping the water. The tub is set down and the window is closed once more.

“Is something the matter Marco?” Jean asks.

“My ship is not doing so well. Bertholdt said he doesn’t know all he damage yet. Not till we get to China.” I tell him. I roll back over. He’s holding a mango piece for the bird to eat. It seems to no longer fear Jean, or at least not enough that it shies from the light of day.

“Can this bird talk? I’ve seen some that look like him in the markets. They say words.” Jean asks.

“Maybe. I don’t think they are intelligent enough to have full conversations like we do, but they repeat words they hear most often. Or at least that’s how I’ve experience them.” Back in Kitt’s cabin, before the riot, it did sound like the parrot knew some words. It made noises that didn’t sound bird-like.

“It will be fine Marco. Pretty Bird will grow back his feathers. Filou will get over his jealousy, and your ship will be fine. Ymir might be another thing, she’s been giving me weird looks.” Jean adds the last part quietly.

It’s not much, but Jean saying that everything will be fine lifts my spirits enough that lying in bed suffering doesn’t sound appealing any longer.

“You’re right.” It’s fine.

So _Liúlàng zhě_ will need some major repairs? Nothing he hasn’t gone through before.

With this thought I leave to attend more duties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Marco’s ship is irreparable - the keel is cracked from the fight and Bertholdt has discovered where the rats have chewed into the keel. Jean takes charge of moving things to Melody after convincing Ymir to give Marco the ship if he pays her back somehow. Marco is in denial of the ship sinking and sulks in his bedroom.
> 
> P.S. I went back and fixed a lot of things. I kept forgetting what the story was about and had to reread the fic, lmao. so things have changed and mistakes have been fixed for the most part.


	31. Taking Charge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been... a MILLION years. I am sorry. srsly.
> 
> Mom was in the hospital for two months in april and may. I didn't feel like writing and then I took summer classes. Before that I couldn't figure out how to write this chapter till I finished it yesterday and finished editing late this night (1 am bc I forgot lol)
> 
> uhm, also I have been focusing more on my original story that I have no plot for only developed characters and scenes and shit, than my fics tbh. ...lol...

Pretty Bird doesn’t eat much. He’ll eat an apple slice, nibble some mango, and shift through some chicken feed; but won’t out right eat. His beak is grey and flaking, the scales on his feet are sore looking and his claws are cracked and broken. Feathers that are supposed to be bright red are more of a maroon and frayed. He’s nearly bald, only the places he can’t reach have remained un-plucked. This poor thing will take weeks to recover, months to re-grow all his lost feathers and the muscles to fly again.

How can someone do this to an animal? Just leave it in a filthy cage to rot. Fucking Christ, back home I saw this all the time with pigs and cows. But there was never any room for them _not_ to be caged the way they were, and they were still fed and cleaned; their stalls mucked out at least once a week.

The cage I found Pretty Bird in is caked in shit. Like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.

I’ll buy a new cage for him. He seems more comfortable in one, it must be some sort of safety zone for him or something. I can leave the cage door open and leave his food just outside of the cage so he can get used to coming out. And when his feathers grow back I’ll take him outside so he can maybe fly away. And if he doesn’t come back, so be it.

Marco doesn’t have much faith in Pretty Bird. Not that I can blame him. But what was I supposed to do? Just leave the poor thing? I’m an asshole, not heartless.

“Jean?” Sasha peeks in grimacing when she spots the bird.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Marco?”

“You just missed him. Something about the ship being in bad shape?” Pretty Bird tries for his cage but I shut the door before he can get in, the last thing I want to do is re-bathe a shit covered bird.

“Mm, yeah. I’ve heard that. Repairs can’t be made in open water and there are far more rats than anyone thought possible. I also heard Bertholdt tell Reiner that the rats have learned to avoid the food put down purposefully by humans.” Sasha says. “And I’d keep Filou close.”

“Why?”

“The rats attacked Maggie, she’s okay, but she got a nasty bite.” She explains. I feel a little sick. Rats have always been in my peripheral, even in France. Where there are humans there are rats. No rat has showed a whisker in here, but I’ve seen them crawl all over in the barracks and mess.

“It’d be best if this ship sank.” I mutter, Sasha isn’t there anymore when I look back up. “Stop pulling out your feathers!” Pretty Bird starts hoping up and down in fright. “Eat some more, I’ll be back later.”

I don’t even know if this stupid bird even understands me.

* * *

 

Hong Kong is… it’s… a city alright. Just by looking at the harbor you can tell people have lived here for a very long time. Now it’s full of British trade ships and scruffy looking junks, before it must have held humble fishing vessels and row boats filled with eager children wanting to learn the trade. Maybe. I mean, it’s what would have happened in Europe, why would China be any different?

Marco says he doesn’t know much about the history of this place. Only that it’s always been a place of gathering. If not refugees running from war, it’s traders looking for a foot hold in this part of the Pacific. He has warned me not to stray too far from his side as this is a military place and the Xin'an County are not people to anger. I have no idea what any of this means.

“Not sure if I remember the dialect here…” Marco mumbles coming to lean on the railing with me.

“Hah?” He should be at the helm directing his stupid shitty ship into the bay. Harbor. Thing. Whatever.

“Nothing, never mind.” Marco shakes his head then adds, “Just that China is so big that by the time you reach the other side it’s a new language and culture, and Hong Kong is a place of gathering. A… a… what is the word…” he looks to me for help.

“Don’t look at me. You forget English is my second language too.” I let my accent slip more heavily as proof. Which I regret because Marco’s cheeks flare and his chest swells. I know I’ve been complaining of blue balls lately, but today is not the day for arousal.

“An end up place.” Marco finally says. “It is not the words, but it is close enough? People just end up here and stay.”

Marco pushes away as Bertholdt comes over. They converse, Marco looks more and more distressed at every word. I have a bad feeling about this. _Melting pot._ I think that’s the word Marco was looking for.

“Okay, thank you Bertholdt. Let the carpenters know will you?” Marco runs his hand through his hair. At some point during the week (I don’t know when) Marco cut his hair. It’s as short as it was when I first laid eyes on him.

“Marco, I’ve been meaning to ask you. I’ve seen a lot of young Chinese men with long braids. How come you don’t do that?” granted most every man in Europe has long hair while I do not… that’s beside the point.

“It’s always windy on the sea and long hair is annoying. Besides, I don’t really like how long hair looks on me.” Marco scoffs.

Fair enough.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Same reason I suppose.” I shrug turning back around in time for us to slide nicely into a docking space. There’s a white man there waiting with a book and quill.

“Damn, dock fees.” Marco mutters. “I’ll be with you in a moment sir!” he shouts to the man. The man nods not taking his eyes off his book ledger and makes a shooing motion. “Come with me?”

“Sure.”

Marco and the dock guy argued for over ten minutes. Something about wanting to find a place where repairs could be done. The dock guy kept saying that they were full when one warehouse right cross from us was empty. Honestly, I thought Marco was going to deck the guy. Eventually though, Marco convinced the man to let us in and hired some more men for work. Bertholdt said it was unneeded but the captain insisted we play by the rules of the docks.

There are times I don’t believe dear Captain Marco is a pirate.

Marco also won’t leave the ship’s side. It’s absolutely ridiculous. He’s a grown ass man and is sitting there fretting like an old maid as they raise it up in the air so everyone can get a good look at the bottom.

“I’m leaving” I tell him. He’s not listening, only frowning up at his fucking boat. It’s encrusted in barnacles, there are some men scraping them off. There are many boards that appear cracked or in need of some replacement. “I said, I’m leaving.” I repeat.

“What? Why?” Marco shakes his head coming out of his daze.

“Because this is fucking boring. I don’t want to stare at your ship all day.” I thought we were going to go out.

“…Okay, stay close though…” he says. Ugh. The one day I want to be around him and he wants to eye fuck his boat. Fine. I’ll go find my own fun.

* * *

 

I come back to the inn were most of us are staying to find Marco face down in the bed making the most horrendous wailing. Well, not quit wailing but close enough. I drop the bags on the floor in exasperation, I ended up having to hang around Reiner most of the day, as he’s the only one who can speak Chinese fluently if not a bit slow. It wasn’t so bad, but he’s a lot to take in and should only be dealt with in increments. _Small_ increments.

“…So, uh, what’s the matter.” I’m really no good at this.

Marco’s muffled wails answer.

“Jean! There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” Armin shouts. I take another look at pitiful Marco before turning my attention to Armin. I believe him and Eren are sharing a room across from us.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Marco?”

“Oh, I think so… his ship is… irreparable. I’ve heard that the keel is cracked from the battle and much of the wood down below the water line had thinned and rotted.” Armin says sadly. “Bertholdt has examined every inch and the rats have chewed too deeply. There’s no saving it Jean.” He shrugs and peeks around me to look at the captain.

“He’s not taking it well.” I say.

“Yeah…”

“You were looking for me?” I change the subject, hopefully whatever it is can get me away till I figure out how to deal with this mess.

“Oh, not _me_ exactly, Sasha’s been looking for you and I said I’d keep an eye out.”

“Okay.” Armin leaves and I shut the door softly. “Hey, Marco, I know how much this ship means to you… but it’s not safe anymore. I’d rather not drown you know?” I want to suggest selling it, there are still timbers (like the mast and such) that may be worth something. Many of the ropes are almost new and the sails aren’t too bad either. But saying that now would probably make the situation worse. Can you even sell a ship in pieces?

Marco secretes a doom aura, he turns his red face to me sniffling the snot that has started to leak. “I’m sorry Jean. But let me mourn in peace.” He turns back to suffocating himself in the pillow.

“Alright, just let one of us know if you want anything?” the words are phrased as a question, a question that goes unanswered as I slip out the door and head to the kitchens where I’m sure Sasha is waiting for me.

* * *

 

“I just don’t know how to make him feel better Sasha. I’m no good at this, not really.” We’re back on Marco’s ship, packing as it’s apparent there’s no saving the ship. It’s not worth it, not really. I’m peeling potatoes because there’s nothing else much to do unless I want to help pack the kitchen but Sasha said she and Levi will do that.

“What would you want Marco to do if the situation were reversed?” Sasha turns to hand Levi another crate full of utensils (pots and pans, dishes and silverware). Levi leaves, he’s heard most everything we’ve been saying but has been keeping to himself.

“Well…” what would I want Marco to do? “I suppose I could… just be near him? Be an ear if he needs it?” it’s no good, I don’t know what I would want in this situation. What I’d want is to move on, get a ship that’s not out to get me. Already feel queasy just sitting here, I keep trying to tell myself it’s because we’re in the air. Held up by strong beams and ropes as thick as a man’s thigh.

No more than an hour ago, as I was walking down the stairs to the mess, one of the stairs snapped while I was on it. Splinters and small gashes go up my leg. Never mind that Reiner had gone down those very steps just before me. Reiner assumed he broke it and my weight was the last straw. But I know the truth.

“Maybe that’s what Marco needs, but he has many more friends to do that. Perhaps, make him move on. Take charge for a change.” Sasha says.

I frown, her tone wasn’t wanted. She sounded as if she were scolding one of the children. And besides, I have been taking charge. I’m the one who told Sasha and Levi to go ahead and transfer all the cargo to a storage area _,_ I‘m the one who has a ‘meeting’ with Ymir.

“Levi, can you oversee the transfers? I don’t want any of Marco’s things being swindled and people fear you.” I ask of him as he enters the pantry to get more things. I don’t care what the fuck happens to Marco’s shit. I just don’t want to hear anymore bitching.

He lifts a brow but otherwise says nothing. Is he not talking today or something?

With the last potato peeled and in the pot to boil my work here is done. Onto another thing to do. There’s an Indian man with barely legible English and some sharp scissors who have agreed to do my hair for free as long as I spread the word around that he is very good and will cut anyone’s hair for a small fee. I said I’d do it as long as he’s as good as he says.

* * *

 

The barber spent way too much time cutting it for my tastes, but it’s decent and at least I no longer have hair tickling the back of my neck. Never liked that feeling, which may explain why my hair style hasn’t changed since toddlerhood.

I turn my head this way and that in the mirror, admiring the straight cut and subtle stubble of my new undercut. The man insisted on keeping the top long, “keeps face from looking like horse” said the man. And I suppose with more bangs than usual my face doesn’t look as long as people claim it to be.

True to my word, I spread the word around to people who look like they need haircuts as I make my way over to meet Ymir for lunch at her ship. She _insisted_. I haven’t really told her _why_ I want to meet her, only that it’s important. Honestly, I just want this over and done with. If I can convince Ymir to give us back _Melody_ , then Marco will have a gorgeous ship, Ymir gets an IOU, and I get a vacation if Marco still wants to go home for a while. A win-win situation for everyone involved hopefully.

Annie greets me at the gang plank and guides me toward the ladies with her icy silence the only company. Any attempts of conversation are weak and only dig me dipper into the pit of awkwardness. Eventually she flips her bangs and gestures her chin toward the door. She walks away before I can thank her.

Here goes nothing.

Whatever conversation was going on inside stops dead as I walk in. I feel as if I just jumped into shark infested waters bleeding profusely. They don’t seem especially hostile, but they also don’t look very welcoming. Food is already on the table but any apatite I had this morning is gone.

“Come in Jean, we’re not going to bite.” Krista pats the cushion next to her though Ymir’s squinting glare warns me not to even _think_ of doing such a thing as sit next to the earth bound goddess. Instead I sit awkwardly on the cushions in front of them. I hope they don’t see the nervous sweat staining the armpits of my new shirt.

“New hair cut?” Ymir asks gesturing her wine filled glass at my head.

“Yes.”

“I like it. Doesn’t make your face so horse like.”

Ymir fails to see the ugly frown placed as she had taken a drink the moment the word ‘like’ left her upturned mouth. Krista sees it and smiles in an amused way.

“Eat Frenchman! And tell me how dear Marco is doing.” Ymir demands.

“Marco is…” psychotic about his damn fucking ship. “…depressing. The ship is nearly grey with the nauseating sadness he secretes from his very pores.”

“Poetic.” Krista comments.

“Well…” I can feel a blush coming on, “It’s true. He won’t accept any comfort, and… the ship… it’s done for. There’s no way to save it and Marco refuses to accept that.”

“And what does he plan on doing?” Ymir asks eating what looks like orange rice.

“That’s just it, he’s doing nothing. Just lying in bed moaning and crying. Infuriating polite about I too, or at least says ‘sorry’ every time he wants to be left alone.” I shrug weakly, glad to have food to preoccupy my hands with.

“What is everyone else doing?” Ymir asks.

“Moving. I told them too, Marco is useless right now and everyone seems to agree that the ship is cursed and not worth saving…” Krista and Ymir seem to be waiting for more, so with a deep breath I plunge into my plan, “I was hoping – since Marco was the one to… liberate the _Melody_ – that Marco can have it… back.”

Ymir’s perfect eyebrows raise in question. I try not to break eye contact. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you care about him.”

“Why do you care?” Krista interrupts the flow of conversation.

“Because I have nowhere else to go. That ship, whether I liked it or not, has become some sort of home. It’s not what I want, but there’s shelter and food; more than I had before and I’m not willing to live on the streets with the rats. If having sex with Marco secures my safety, then so be it. I am not ashamed of that, I enjoy sex and sex with a man isn’t so different from sex with a women-”

“You can stop there.” Krista interrupts a perfectly manicured hand raised in emphasis. My cheeks are probably bright red now.

“So, we give Marco the _Melody_ , at your request because he doesn’t have the balls-” Ymir recaps.

“Marco doesn’t know I’m doing this.” I blurt.

The ladies look at each other in surprise.

“Why?” Krista asks.

“Like I said. He’s useless right now. Everyone else seems to know what to do when the time comes to leave Marco, but I don’t. I’m not really doing this for Marco, or for the others without a home, but for _myself_. I don’t know how to live on my own, not without- not in this land anyway.” Maybe being honest with them will get me on their good side. I mean, it’s the truth. This whole agreeing to be Marco’s ‘pet’ was so I have food in my belly and a warm place to sleep at night.

“Back to the ship.” Ymir rolls her eyes, “Marco gets a nice ship, you get a nice fuck in clean sheets and not some dirty alley, but poor me loses a ship? I don’t really like that deal.”

Another ugly frown takes over my face at the fuck comment and this time Ymir sees it.

“You’ll get an IOU.” I haven’t eaten a bite, too nervous.

There’s silence as Krista and Ymir look at each other.

“How do we know you’re not lying? How do we know that Marco didn’t just send you over here to take the ship?” Krista asks. It’s a fair question, but even so.

“Would Marco do that?” I counter. I know he probably wouldn’t. but he’s a pirate so… probably he would. They don’t look convinced. “Go see for yourself. He hasn’t bathed since the liberation from Kitt and he’s started to offend.” My legs are starting to fall asleep. “Talk to the carpenters.”

“Dinner?” Ymir suggests. I agree and give them directions to the inn we’re staying at being that the ship is currently unlivable at the moment, also promising to try and get Marco presentable.

I leave their ship with shaking legs and a feeling of accomplishment. Once they see and hear everything they’ll say yes… maybe. Of course I’m also relying on whatever affection they may have for Marco.

Sigh.

I’m doomed.

Tonight is the breaking point. If they say no and keep _Melody…_ I don’t know what will happen to me. I can’t stay with Eren and Armin, they’ll likely leave with Mikasa or Levi. Everyone else… I’m not willing to live with. And Marco? I just don’t know. If they say yes, then the decision of ‘life after/without Marco’ is delayed a bit more.

Please say yes.

Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be done. but it will be about Marco (duh) and how very confused he is that Jean has basically taken over and the feeling of being betrayed by his friends. basically Marco having a really dumb angst fest and everyone telling him to "get over it" when poor Marco is like "you don't understaaaaand" and everyone else is like "we dooo, move ooooon." etc.
> 
> also I've been thinking or re-writing this whole thing bc it did not go in the directions I wanted it to go and there are so many things I wanted in this story that didn't go in bc #1 forgot, #2 didn't know how to write it, #3 couldn't fit it in the chapter I wanted them in bc they woldnt it with what I had already written. stuff like that.
> 
> SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT I FEEL BAD BC IM LIKE THAT READERWHO IS LIKE "GET UR LIFE TOGETHER AND WRITE THE REST OF THE FIC BABARA!!" BUT IM NOT WRITING THE FICS I HAVE STILL OPEN....LOL


	32. SORRY I LOVE YOU ALL

DISCONTINUED I have learned that the author is a Nazi sympathizer and glorifies racism and I WILL NOT continue to love a series created by a scum bucket. sorry not sorry. This story is NOT up for grabs as I'm going to use it for another fandom or an original story instead. I love all you readers and I thank you for your love and support.

**Author's Note:**

> The translations in order:
> 
> Takes one to know one. [Bertl]  
> You know damn well what I said. [Bertl]  
> A new toy sir? [Reiner]  
> Perhaps, Reiner. [Marco]  
> You sick fucking freak! Let go you gorilla! Fuck you, don’t touch me! [Jean]  
> Pervert! [Jean]  
> Eat shit. [Jean]  
> Take everything, try not to harm anyone. Reiner please stay. [Marco]  
> Knock him out. He’s mine. [Marco]
> 
> Super thanks to anatomy-references [tumblr] for correcting the French!
> 
> Please comment! I enjoy your input!


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